


wings to earn

by isaksliveterna



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Volleyball AU, a few others make general appearances, its both really...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaksliveterna/pseuds/isaksliveterna
Summary: After playing volleyball abroad for two years, Sander comes back home to fix his mistake of leaving in the first place, but Robbe isn't ready to forgive him.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 33
Kudos: 129





	1. beating feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi so i had major insp for this so here we are. i had other things planned first but i just couldnt stop thinking about volleyball au sooo hope you enjoy✨  
> also big thanks to tas tas who read like the first half of this and gave me confidence and also told me where i needed to clarify the volleyball terms🤍 i really hope its alright 🥺

Seasons and time. Both are things that cannot be stopped. They just happen and they have the power to change people. But sometimes we hope that some people don’t change too much. That’s what Sander wants to believe; it’s what made him come back home.

As light rain trickles down on him and his luggage, and the daylight slowly fades, he walks up the path to an unfamiliar house. He’s hoping he hasn’t messed up the address Senne had given him, the address on the crumpled piece of paper that is now stuffed in his back pocket, because if it isn’t, it’ll be even more awkward than the best case scenario he’s played in his head over and over again since he got on the plane.

He also prays that the person he most desperately wants to see is inside, so he knocks and waits, slowly getting more and more damp from the rain. Why hadn’t he packed an umbrella in his rush? Either way, it’s too late to go back now, which has been something he has learned the hard way in the last two years. 

Sander waits. Nothing.

When he’s about to turn to walk away, the door opens. There stands Robbe, looking utterly confused at him. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Robbe looks livid. “No! You don’t get to say that. You– you have no right to say that _ to me _ .” He slams the door and Sander hears the lock click and Robbe’s fading footsteps. 

Staring at the close door, he speaks, barely audible to even himself, “I missed you, too.” The sound of the door slamming still rings in his ears.

To be completely honest with himself, Sander had expected this. He sighs to himself and sits on the front step, against the door. Now what? Thankfully there’s a small overhang to protect him from the rain that is now coming down harder. How symbolic of his emotions.

How stupid could he be to come back and think Robbe would just accept him with open arms into his life again?

He hoped maybe Robbe still didn’t hate him after all these years apart.

Turns out he still did.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ When they first met they despised each other; and despise is an understatement. Sander was next in line to be captain of the highschool volleyball team as setter, but not just any setter. Sander was top five in the country and everyone said he would go far in his pro career ever since he started playing in the youth volleyball league when he was ten. He was talented to say the least, but he also had an attitude that took some getting used to.  _

_ Sander took great pride in being the setter.  _

_ The setter is the player that touches the ball the most, the player that decides who attacks and how they do so. They control the game. The setter is usually the second of three touches a team has before sending the ball back over the net; they set the ball in a good position for middle blockers and wing spikers to hit over the net. But this also means they have to know exactly what state their team members are in, their confidence, their agility, their energy. Miscalculating could be devastating to the set. _

_ The latter of a setter’s responsibilities is probably the part Sander struggles with more. Communicating with his team in general was difficult, but no one has been more challenging than Robbe.  _

_ Robbe came into his life during tryouts for the team opened at the beginning of Sander’s second year. And the thing about Robbe is that he instantly saw right through Sander and his act. He never put up with his bullshit and yelling at the team. In fact, he called him out on it.  _

_ The new boy was short for a volleyball player. _

_ “What position do you play?” asked Senne de Smet, the team’s captain. _

_ The shy boy said in a soft voice, “middle blocker.” _

_ “What? Middle blocker? But you’re so short! I was thinking more libero. Closer to the ground for receiving and shit,” the blond boy scoffed. “Can you even reach the top of the net?” _

_ Robbe was used to being mistaken for a libero, the player that is the heart and soul of defense. Liberos can come and go as they pleased onto the court by switching out with middle blockers if they were in the back line, but this comes at a cost. A libero cannot attack so they have to be the absolute best at receiving.  _

_ Robbe glared at him, “you’re not all that tall either!” _

_ Sander rolled his eyes and went to the serving line to practice. He was already over this conversation.  _

_ Senne let out a sigh. “Don’t mind Sander, he just doesn’t like new people.” He gave Robbe a reassuring smile. “He’ll come around.” He clapped his hands together to change the subject. “Right, you can start with our other new setter then.” He pointed to another boy his age sitting on the floor staring at his phone. _

_ Robbe nodded and walked over to the setter. “Hi, I’m Robbe. I also joined the team. Middle blocker” _

_ The boy stood, holding his hand out. “Jens. Setter, but you already knew that.” Robbe took his hands and Jens eyed him up and down. “You’re a little short for a middle blocker.” _

_ “Yea, yea you took me for a libero, right?” Jens awkwardly laughed, but Robbe smileed and continued. “Don’t worry I get that alot. Just wait. Toss for me?” _

_ Jens nodded and they moved to the court. Jens went to stand near the net as Robbe picked up a ball from the bin. He tossed it to Jens, who set it for him, close to the net. Robbe ran and jumped to spike the ball, hard on the other side.  _

_ Except what Robbe did was not jumping.  _

_ He had flown.  _

_ His form needed work but his arms were outstretched on either side, like he’s grown wings from his shoulder blades. Jens and other team members stared at him, most in all. But not Sander. _

_ “What?” He smirked at all of them when he landed lightly on his feet, knowing full well why they all gaped at him. “Told you I was a middle blocker.” _

_ And now Sander really didn’t like him. He thought Robbe was cocky in his jumping ability and athleticism. True, Robbe was insanely talented when it came to his reflexes, but that’s all it is. Reflexes without thinking of the consequences and absolutely no technique behind it.  _

_ Sander couldn’t toss to someone like that. Every toss is to score a point, and if he couldn’t score because he didn’t have options in the air, then to Sander he is useless, not worthy of his toss. _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Sander has his eyes closed, daydreaming, when suddenly, he’s falling backwards. He hadn’t heard the door opening. From the floor he stares up to see Robbe looking down at him.

“What are you doing?” he glares. “Don’t you have anywhere to go?”

“How did you know I was still here?” Sander looks at him. Those brown eyes that he’s really fucking missed, but he’s not about to tell him that. But they’re also eyes he doesn’t remember, they’ve lost their spark when they look at him, replaced with loathing, just like when they first played together, but also with sadness, just like when he last saw him. 

“I saw you through the window, you idiot. Now why are you still here?”

Sander shakes his head and in a low voice mutters, “Ikindaforgottoreserveahotel.” 

“You forgot a fucking hotel?” Robbe rolls his eyes. “Of course, you fucking did.”

Standing up, Sander looks embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’ll just try to call a taxi again and find a place.” He starts to gather his luggage and starts down the front path, back to the street. He mutters again, “I’m really sorry, Robbe. I just really wanted to see you.”

“Well, did you ever think that maybe,  _ maybe _ I didn’t want to see you?” Robbe is now yelling at him.

Something inside Sander breaks. Robbe never yells. Even when he’s been angry, Robbe has  _ never _ shouted at Sander. He’ll get passive aggressive, or just leave the conversation but this is the first time he’s seen him in this state. What had happened to Robbe these last two years?

Sander knows. He left him, that’s what happened.

From what Sander had read in articles, Robbe had been living a good professional career. He had a starting position on the national team and regularly had highlight pieces written about him for being one of the best players of their generation. He could go anywhere in the world, play for whichever country he wanted, but for some reason he had decided to stay here.

This was something Sander had never properly understood. Why had Robbe not left their home country? 

Robbe calls out to him, bringing him back to the present. “Just take the spare room. It’s raining and cold. Just for the night.” 

Sander turns around, confused, and ready to retort only to see Robbe going further into the house but leaving the front door open this time. He can’t help but smile a little as he goes inside, closing the door behind him. It’s a sad smile, one that reminds him of everything that could have been had he not left.

He follows Robbe down the hallway where he assumes are the bedrooms.

“It’s the second door on the left. After the bathroom.” And that’s all Robbe says to him before going into his own room and closing the door behind him. Sander is just thankful it’s not another slam. 

In the morning, Robbe finds Sander in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He looks at the food he’s put together on the table. 

“I could have sworn I didn’t have orange juice and croissants.” He doesn’t even give him a hello or good morning.

Straight to the point, okay then. 

Sander internally winces. He’d hoped making breakfast and a good night’s sleep would have made things better. Apparently not. He now realises how naive this thought had been. Of course Robbe wasn’t going to forgive him so quickly.

Trying to look past this, Sander replies, “I noticed, so I walked to the store to get food. It’s the least I could do.”

“Why are you even up so early? On a Sunday of all days.”

Sander shrugs, “jetlag.” If Robbe was going to give cold, impersonal answers, two could play at that game.

They sit and eat in silence. Sander can’t even look at him, busying himself with his coffee mug and mindlessly stirring it.

Breaking the silence Robbe asks, “I saw the article. You’re really coming back to the national team?”

Still not looking up, Sander nods. 

“What on Earth made you decide that? I thought you never wanted to play with me again.”

Now Sander gapes at him, mouth open, shocked. “I–” He’s lost for words.  _ When had he ever said that? _

“Don’t worry, you won’t have too. I quit.” Robbe shrugs like it’s nothing.

Except it’s not nothing. Robbe quitting volleyball was like him losing a limb. Robbe loved volleyball, probably even more than Sander did. He had really thrown himself into it during their time in university. They had gone to different universities, rivals schools as a matter of fact so they technically haven’t played an official match on the same side of the court since Sander’s last year of highschool, which, now that he thinks about it, was over six years ago. 

“You’re what? You’re quitting?!” Robbe just stares at him giving no sign of further elaboration.

“It’s not because of me is it?”

Robbe shakes his head as if to say  _ No it’s not because of you _ .

It’s most definitely because of him. 

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ After Robbe’s first official highschool match, Sander’s attitude towards him changed. They could now practice together and somewhat tolerate each other. But maybe it was just because Jens had changed his position to libero to fill the gap on the team. He’d been best at receiving and well, since the position of setter was filled by  _ the  _ Sander Driesen, he didn’t have much choice. However, this never bothered Jens. In fact, it gave him pride to be the guardian of sorts for the team, connecting the ball to let his team members score points.  _

_ But they also discovered that together, the duo had an unmatched offensive strategy. With Robbe’s heightened agility and speed, and Sander’s precise sets to anywhere, they could do quicks from anywhere on the court. Meaning Robbe could spike before the other team knew what was happening.  _

_ And to Sander’s great annoyance, they had synced up faster than anyone else he had ever played with, including Senne whom he had grown up with and played with the longest. They hadn’t needed much practice.  _

_ They could just do it.  _

_ Other schools hated them for it. It was so incredibly hard to counter, much less block. And then it also distracted them from their teammates who now could score more easily with Robbe as a distraction. _

_ Over time, they perfected it, making it even more deadly in matches when Robbe learned different options of where to spike once in the air depending on where the blockers came from.  _

_ “Nice last spike, but next time a little warning when you decide to change places last second.”  _

_ “Sorry, I panicked because I saw them coming. And I saw that you still hadn’t gotten the ball, so I knew you had time to get it to me no matter where I was.” Robbe had the audacity to grin at him. _

_ As Robbe walks away, Sander realises that buried in his words, Robbe had complimented him. This was a first. _

_ “Thanks,” he called after him. “You played well too.” _

_ Robbe nodded and went to meet up with Jens was waiting for him by the bike rack outside the gym. _

_ Things get better for them after that.  _

_ They started to talk outside of practice and always sat next to each other at team dinners that happened late at night after long practices.  _

_ They had actually become friends and Robbe had been there for Sander when he was diagnosed with bipolar during his third and final year of highschool. He had come visit him when he was in bed, so empty of energy he didn't want to leave his bed.  _

_ Robbe had also been the person to make him smile for the first time after his episode. _

_ “How was practice?” Sander asked when Robbe came into his room one afternoon dressed in his usual practice clothes. He was laying in bed. _

_ Robbe went to sit next to him, facing the opposite direction, after dropping his duffel by the door. _

_ “Sorry I stink. Senne and coach really had us working today. We did serves and every time we missed we had to do two laps of seal walks around the court.” Robbe let out a sigh. _

_ Sander smirked, “ah, so you spent the entire time doing seal walks then.” _

_ “Hey! You’re not nice.” He playfully punched Sander’s arm who had now sat up with his arms hugging his legs closer to his chest. _

_ “I only speak the truth.” _

_ “Yea well, when you feel better, you have to teach me how you do your jump serve.” He grinned towards Sander. _

_ “Maybe soon. Today was pretty good. I actually showered, unlike you,” he wrinkled his nose, teasing. _

_ Robbe pouted, “listen, I just wanted to see you right after practice. I can leave if you want.” He went to get up. _

_ Sander quickly grabbed his arm. “No, stay please. Compliment me more.” He happily grinned causing Robbe to roll his eyes. _

_ Trying to sound faintly annoyed at the request, Robbe said, “I can’t wait for you to come back. Jens has been filling in as setter, and he’s good and all, don't get me wrong. But he’s not you. He can’t do our super fast quick.” Robbe looked down at the bed, letting his finger get tangled in the sheets. _

_ Sander found Robbe’s hand and gently put his on top. Robbe sucked in a breath of air that went unnoticed by Sander who stared at the empty wall in front of him. _

_ When Sander stayed quiet, Robbe went on. “I just miss playing with you. Playing with you, I feel free, like I can fly.” _

_ At this, Sander turned to look into Robbe’s eyes and smiled at him. _

_ “Me too.” _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

“So, I’ve got shit to do.” Sander is brought back to the ground as Robbe stands up to put his plate in the sink. 

His icy tone reminds Sander that they are not the same people they were back in high school. Their relationship had definitely changed since then. And that made Sander feel like a part of him had died, shrivelled up, left to rot and forgotten.

“Oh, uh, right. I said I’d meet Senne later,” he tells Robbe who just nods, preparing to leave the kitchen. “Can I maybe leave my stuff here for the day? I’ll pick it up tonight when I find a hotel.”

Robbe just waves his hand. “Yea, sure whatever you want.” And without another word he walks away and Sander soon after hears the front door closing. 

Sander finishes his breakfast in silence and washes his and Robbe’s plates. He tidies the spare room, leaving it exactly like what it had looked like the night before, ready to grab his things and leave in the evening and locks the front door with the spare key Robbe had silently left on the small table by the coat hanger. 

Seeing Senne for the first time after two years could not have gone differently when compared to seeing Robbe again. Senne had run up to hug him and the two eagerly caught up in a café all afternoon. They talked about Sander and his international escapade and also of Senne coaching a high school team after he quit the pro team when he got engaged with Zoë. 

They talk about everything except Robbe. Of course, Senne knew he wanted to see Robbe seeing as he had been the one to pass along his address, but Sander hadn’t told him that he had gone to see him last night and things had gone less than ideal.

Nearing the end of the afternoon, and having lost track of time, Senne opens his phone to texts from Zoë saying she and members of Sander and Senne’s old highschool team are at a bar close by. Naturally, Senne pushed Sander to tag along.

“Of course, she wants to see you! She’s going to be thrilled! I haven’t told her yet. And the boys will be happy to see you, too.” Senne says excitedly.

And that’s how Sander ended up in the club that evening. 

Senne walks in and instantly spots Zoë sitting with Moyo, Jens, and Aaron from their highschool team, along with a few girls Sander did not recognise but soon learns are Moyo and Aaron’s girlfriends. He and Senne greet them all. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Master Setter himself!” Jens says. He hugs Sander, smiling. “How you doing, man?”

“I’m alright. Little tired from jet lag but you know the deal.” He returns the smile.

Jens had gone on to play pro with Robbe on the national team which meant they travelled from time to time, but they had never played against each other since going pro.

“Have you seen Robbe yet?” For Jens, it's an innocent question. Him, like everyone else knew he and Robbe had been close, but they probably didn't know what happened the last time they had seen each other two years ago.

Sander freezes. Why is he asking about Robbe?

“Yea, where is Robbe with the drinks?” Aaron chimes in.

Wait, Robbe was  _ here _ ? 

Panic filled Sander he hadn’t planned to see him again. He still didn’t know what to say to make Robbe listen to him. To apologise to him for having left.

“Ah finally!” Aaron cheers.

Sander spins around to see Robbe, frozen, looking straight at him. Sander feels as if someone has poured a bucket of ice water over him. His chest tightens and he can’t move. He can’t speak.

Robbe searches for words. “Wh– what are you doing here?”

“Yea isn’t it great? Sander is back! He didn’t tell you?” Jens looks at the both of them excitedly, unknowing of the growing tension between them. 

He continues to look at Robbe, not knowing what to say. It’s worse than last night. Last night he had known what to say but then he had seen the walls Robbe had put up for him, unwilling to let him in, so now he’s terrified of the reaction he could receive.

Before he knows it, Robbe has pushed beside him, dropped the tray of drinks on the table, grabbed his coat and is out the door. Their friends look at him confused. Only Senne seems to put a few pieces together and silently nods towards the door that is now swinging shut. 

_ Follow him. Go talk to him. Properly. _

So Sander does. 

He murmurs his apologies to the silent talent and runs after Robbe.

He can’t let him walk away from him. 

Not like he did.

_ He just can’t. _

_ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading. i wrote this yesterday and i still cant stop thinking about it so the next part will probably be out very soon ((but no promises just highly possible))  
> come chat to me on tumblr: to-enter-polaris  
> hugs and kusjes 🤍


	2. a way to fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbe has accepted Sander's return but that doesn't mean he's ready to forgive him, so they play a match each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right, so i just made up their universities and just put one in each of the big cities so bear with me

_ Before Robbe, Sander hadn’t known about passion. Passion for a sport or passion for a person. Robbe had taught him that. From the beginning, no one loved volleyball more than Robbe; Robbe who grew wings when he played, to glide above the clouds where the air was clean and pure. He felt free when he played and let nothing tether him down so he was always soaring higher and higher. _

_ Their university years were filled with moments they both would never forget and cherish forever. It also came with extreme hardships, in more ways than one.  _

_ At the beginning of his first year, Sander had to take a sudden leave of absence from the remainder of the year because of a pretty devastating episode which led to unstable medication doses. Failing his classes would mean he could lose his scholarship and his spot on the team so he made the difficult decision of stepping back and would repeat his first year. _

_ It was a time in his life that he had tried incredibly hard to forget. Thankfully, he had Robbe, who was finishing his last year of high school, at his side to reassure him when he had to tell his team he would not be coming back until the next school year. The pressure of letting his team down frightened him and made him angry with himself.  _

_ Why couldn’t he be like everyone else? But Robbe was there to remind him that it was these little things that made him so incredibly special and that he would get his chance.  _

_ Robbe, who had been by his side during highs and lows. His presence was comforting, and a reminder of being grounded to this world, as ironic as it was. Robbe was his wings during tough times, keeping his head above the water from drowning.  _

_ Sander’s scholarship allowed him to stay on the team as long as he kept up his training. So once he felt better, Sander was more than happy to practice with Robbe and the other members of the high school team and help train their new first year setter. Redoing his year also meant he and Robbe had the possibility of going pro at the same time when they graduated university the same year. _

_ This was what made waiting worth it for Sander.  _

_ Robbe finished high school and their team placed second in the country’s high school volleyball league. It was an accomplishment their school hadn’t seen in years, for they hadn’t even qualified in more than a decade, and Sander couldn’t have been more proud of him.  _

_ He had sat in the stands cheering him on, smiling the entire time.  _

_ He thought about the next time he’d be on the court back playing his favourite sport, it would be with Robbe. _

_ This was true.  _

_ Except they weren’t on the same side of the net.  _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

The bar door swings open again and Sander runs out, half trying to put on his coat. It’s raining again but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is not letting Robbe walk away again.

“Robbe!” He calls out after the figure moving away from him. “Robbe, wait.”

Robbe doesn’t stop walking but he slows down so Sander knows he has heard him after all. 

Sander runs faster to catch to find. He stops in front of Robbe and turns to face him.

“Robbe, please, can we talk?” He desperately just wants to talk to Robbe.

“When are you going to understand that I do not want to talk to you?”

Sander winces, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking.”

Robbe scoffs, staring him down. “Understatement of the century right there. You don’t tell me your feelings but worst of all you don’t think about my feelings!”

“I think– I think I know how you feel,” he mutters, now unable to look Robbe in the eye. He knows that if he does all he will see is fire and not the good kind. Instead, it’ll be a fiery rage that will burn him if he gets too close. It would hurt him the same way he has hurt Robbe two years ago.

Robbe shoves him in the chest and he stumbles back.

“Robbe, I just want to fix this, fix us.”

“God! Sander there is no us! I don’t want you to  _ fix  _ this. You made yourself very clear when you left.” 

Sander looks at the ground. “I didn’t even know you’d be there tonight. Senne just said some guys from the team were out having drinks with Zoë.”

“Breaking news, Sander, we have the  _ same friends here _ .” He punctuates the last three words with a hand gesture.

“You just ran out of the bar before even saying goodbye to your friends, our friends,” still not looking up and shoving his hands further into his pockets to keep at bay the cold, nippy, winter air. 

“Well, that bar, of all places, with you and our friends, our old team, it just reminded me of the last time we were in there.”

Sander stands there, looking at him, kind of confused at the last part of his sentence.

That bar?

They had been to that bar before? It’s been so long Sander’s memory is getting a little fuzzy, but if Robbe remembers it must be important.

What happened in that bar?

And then it hits him.

It’s at that bar they both had to after their first official university game as rivals with the rest of their team from highschool. Graduation had also separated most of them. Some had gone to Brussels with Robbe; and others had stayed in Antwerp with Sander and a few of them had decided not to continue playing. But they had all come together again for drinks one evening. 

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ “So, playing each other is weeiirddd,” Robbe said, taking a sip of his beer.  _

_ Despite being on separate teams, the two of them still sat side by side at their team’s table. Their teams were pretty much all friends, having either played together in highschool or knowing each other from practice camps or tournaments.  _

_ Sander nodded. “Yea I know what you mean, seeing you on the court but like no tossing to you. Well, unless you count that dump that you couldn’t pick up.” He smirked at Robbe. _

_ “Yea thanks for that. That one is gonna leave me a nice bruise. I almost had it but,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at Sander who laughed.  _

_ “We still won though so be careful where you’re laughing.” Robbe grinned at him and now Sander was the one rolling his eyes. _

_ “All these years, you’re still just as cocky. Just you wait, we’ll win next time.”  _

_ Robbe nodded, raising his beer to clink with Sander’s virgin cocktail, both looking very forward to their next match already. They both drink. _

_ “Mm,” Sander put down his glass, “are you jumping higher or is that just me? Cuz I swear your setter is tossing higher than I do for you.” _

_ Robbe grinned. “Glad you noticed. I’m at 332cm now.” _

_ Sander smirked, pleased with himself. _

_ “What?” Robbe looked at him confused. “What’s yours?” _

_ “339cm. I still win there, Robin.” Sander said it with pride. At least, Robbe hadn’t taken him over there, but he was honestly waiting for the day it would happen. Sander’s vertical hadn’t improved  _ that _ much since highschool, whereas Robbe was still improving by leaps and bounds every time.  _

_ Robbe humphed, looking disappointed. He really thought he had finally beaten Sander. Not yet he hadn’t, but it would come.  _

_ Sander reassured him, “you’ll beat me soon, I’m sure.”  _

_ “You bet your ass, I’m gonna. I’m going to get so much stronger.” _

_ Sander grins at him, “Yes, we’ll both be stronger and then the two of us will be unstoppable the next time we play together.” _

_ He held out his hand in a fist, which Robbe just grabbed, like a handshake. He laughed while Sander rolled his eyes before fist bumping properly.  _

_ “We’ll be unstoppable,” Robbe replied. _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ Oh. _

Sander comes back the present as if he’d dropped from the sky, like a bird with a broken wing, unable to catch itself as it falls. He lands hard. 

In the smallest voice, Sander whispers slowly, “I– I remember.”

“Do you? Do you really remember? Because you fucking hurt me, Sander. You left me!” Well, at least he’s not yelling at him again, not like last night, but Sander can hear the anguish and pain in his voice. 

It’s almost worse than being yelled at, hearing Robbe’s agony. 

Sander mutters, “That’s why I came back. Leaving you– it hurt me too and seeing how much I hurt you, now, it’s killing me Robbe.”

Robbe snorts as a response. He doesn’t have anything else to tell Sander and now Sander is just in his way.

“You know, deep down I knew we would have this conversation. You, being mad at me. You saying I don’t saying I don’t think about your feelings is so fucking unfair. I’m trying.”

“Well maybe you should’ve just stayed in  _ Japan _ , because this,” he gestures to the two of them, “this, isn’t doing any of us any good.”

Sander winces at the sound of Japan.

It’s not that he regrets going, he loved every second of it but he regrets not going with the person he cares about the most.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ Memories have a weird way of working and most of the time, for Sander at least, they come back at the most inconvenient of times.  _

_ It’s as if the memories of him and Robbe were taunting him. ‘See this is what you could have had. But no. You just have to go and fuck it all up. And now you’ll never get back to that point. So here remember me and suffer.’  _

_ It’s maddening really because Sander can’t help but compare the then with the now and it kills him because it really is all his fault.  _

_ “Alright, pile in everyone.” Senne stood at the entrance of their van at the end of a long day of training camp with other highschools. They had spent the day in Bruges and now had to make the over an hour trip back to Antwerp in their little cramped van. _

_ They all clambered in, Robbe being one of the first ones. Sander got on and as he was making his way towards the back because the front rows were all filled, a hand grabbed his wrist. He turned to find Robbe smiling up at him. _

_ “I saved you a seat, because I know you sometimes get motion sickness.” _

_ He plopped down next to Robbe, thanking him. It was a simple gesture but those are the ones that mean the most.  _

_ Everyone was exhausted so the bus was pretty much silent. Only the rumble of the engine, the vibrations of the floor under their feet, they filled the soundless void. Sander revelled in the silence to sit back and just listen to his music. _

_ He felt something land on his shoulder and turned to see Robbe’s messy hair. He had fallen asleep and was using Sander a pillow. _

_ He tried to push the small boy off him but Robbe just groaned and wrapped his arms around Sander’s bicep. _

_ “Fuck you,” Sander whispered but couldn’t help to smile at the sight. _

_ Sander figured that Robbe must get tired from all the jumping he did. Jumping to spike, jumping to spike. Volleyball, Sander knew all too, was a sport all about jumping and one almost spent more time in the air than on the ground. As setter, Sander probably jumped the least, however, for Robbe, who lacked height compared to the rest of them, it was so important.  _

_ Who would have guessed the smallest member of their team, the one with all the energy bouncing off the walls, could be cuddly when he finally landed on the ground to crash out of exhaustion?  _

_ Sander would never let him live it down and took a picture to remember this moment.  _

_ From that moment on, the pair of them always sat next to each other when they travelled and Sander always let Robbe use his shoulder as his napping pillow, because he knew how exhausting he must be.  _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

They’re still standing on the pavement a few blocks down from the bar they had just come from. The streetlight just above them bathes them in warm light. There is no one else around; it’s literally just the two of them, alone in the night. Robbe tries to side step Sander, but the setter’s quick reflexes block him, again and again. 

Robbe groans, “fuck Sander.”

“Please Robbe, can I–”

“Fine, what?”

“What if you stay? On the team I mean,” it’s a long shot but Sander has to try. “We don’t have to be friends, I just don’t want to be the one to make you give up the thing you love doing.” 

“And why would I do that?” Robbe looks unconvinced.

Sander hesitates. “Maybe– I have reasons.” 

“Fuck, you’re not going to let this go are you?”

Sander shakes his head slowly. 

_ What are you thinking? Please let me prove to you that you should stay, if not for me, then for your passion. _

“And you understand that you can’t just fix this?”

It pains him but Sander nods, a sad air taking over his eyes. 

He knows he’s got a long way to go before Robbe will trust him again. Robbe who had been one to trust easily and always saw the best in everything and everyone. It was one of the many things Sander loved about Robbe’s personality, his optimism; but, now, he realised that this was not that same Robbe anymore. 

And he has an idea of why that’s changed, unfortunately. Sander is to blame for that one and he is conscious of that now.

Suddenly Robbe moves. “You coming?”

Sander is too shocked to keep him from walking away. Robbe walks past him and then stops a few steps ahead, turning back to look at him. “Come on, we’re going to miss the bus. And it looks like it's going to rain.” 

“You want me to stay with you again?” Sander doesn’t understand what is happening. He stands there, astounded.

Robbe shrugs, “where else can you stay? You didn’t look for a hotel today, did you?” He raises an eyebrow, knowingly.

Sander shakes his head. Busted. Why had Robbe always been so good at reading him? And how was he still this good at it?

“So where, else are you gonna go? Besides all your stuff is still there and it's getting late, so it’s just whatever.” He continues walking, knowing Sander will eventually follow.

He does and quickly jogs to catch up with him. 

Robbe still knows Sander so well, as if two years haven’t just passed. But they have, and Sander wants nothing more than to make up for lost time and to start a chapter in their life where they’re not angry at each other. 

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ He looked at Robbe who was lying on the floor besides him during their cooldown stretches after a friendly practice match between their universities. He was turned towards Robbe but Robbe wasn’t facing him.  _

_ After a long while, he whispered, finally, “I said I’d go.” _

_ Robbe just looked at him, confused. Deep down he hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was.  _

_ ‘He can’t go, he said we’d play together again when we went pro. This isn’t what he really means. There must be something else,’ Robbe thought to himself to calm his panic.  _

_ They switched legs and turned to face the other way. Now it was Robbe’s turn to look at the back of Sander’s bleach blond hair, with brown roots starting to become visible. _

_ Sander understood Robbe’s silence and replied, “The Japan offer. I took it.”  _

_ “Oh.” Robbe’s tone dropped. “When was this?”  _

_ He continued to think to himself, ‘so it is what I thought, but why? He promised…’ _

_ As they finished their stretches, Robbe sat up and turned back to look at Sander still sprawled on his back looking up into the bright lights on the gym’s high ceiling.  _

_ “Last week.” There was another long pause. Every second that passed, Sander’s heart felt heavier and heavier, dropping deeper into his chest. “Please say something Robbe.” _

_ “Last week? I told the national team I would join a few days ago. I thought this is what we wanted. To play on the same side again, after all these years I thought– I thought you wanted to play together again.” He was getting frustrated now; his voice was slowly filling with anger. _

_ Sander finally sat up. “I do, but you know how much an international offer like this means to me. If it were you, I’d tell you to go. Why can’t you do the same for me?” _

_ He answered quickly, and spoke very fast as he tried to keep the anger from rising to his voice. “Well, I didn’t get international offers, much less Japan, so problem solved there, I guess!”  _

_ “I’m sorry, Robbe, I just couldn’t think of a better time to tell yo–” _

_ “What makes it worse is that all this time you led me on to believe that we would play  _ together _ when we both went pro!” He had started to really move his arms around and for Sander, it only emphasised the pain more.  _

_ They fell silent, and Sander could just hear Robbe’s heavy breathing in the still room.  _

_ When Sander had gotten the offer, he knew deep down if he didn’t take it, he would regret it. But at the same time he also thought about Robbe, his best friend, his volleyball partner after all these years. All their highs and lows, they always came back together. _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

In the morning, Robbe finds Sander in the kitchen again putting together breakfast for the two of them.

“Jetlag still bad, huh,” Robbe states as he sits down in front of the toast and jam spread on the table. 

Sander just nods, not knowing what else to say. 

They had come back to Robbe’s place in silence, gone to bed in silence. But it had been a comfortable silence, just like when they were younger and were happy just to sit in each other’s presence. 

Sander could have sworn that a few times, he caught Robbe looking at him but something other than anger in his expression.

However, to Sander’s surprise, seems comfortable in his company again and continues the conversation. It’s small talk but at least it’s no longer an anger conversation. 

“So you’re not blond anymore.” Robbe says matter of factly. 

Sander grins. “Wow, excellent observation, Robbe.”

Robbe gives him a look that makes Sander run a hand through his now short, brown hair. He grins softly.

“It’s a good look but honestly I was surprised when I first saw you.” He gives him a genuine smile to show his cute dimples that Sander had always loved when Robbe smiled.

“Thanks,” Sander replies. “I got tired of constantly bleaching it and it was just so damaged after all the years.”

“I imagine, how long was it? At least the entire time I knew you, I don't think I ever saw you with fully natural hair.” His ears start to feel warm.

“Yea probably.”

They finish eating their food with a pleasant conversation, nothing too deep.

Robbe stands. “So, I’ve got practice today. Did you have something planned?”

“Probably just looking for a hotel?” he shrugs as he starts on the dishes.

“Did you want to come along? I mean you’re pretty much on the team, right?” Robbe asks Sander’s back.

Sander doesn’t turn around but he stops, “oh, are you sure? I don’t want to make it weird or anything.”

Robbe nods his head before he realises that Sander cannot see him. “Yea it’s fine, we’ll probably do a practice match today and since it's the holidays some people will be missing.”

And that’s exactly what they do. 

When they walk into the gym, everyone gapes at them. It seems they are among the last few to arrive. Jens and a few others from the night before look perplexed. Sander and Robbe now are definitely different to the Sander and Robbe who both went running out the bar last night. 

Robbe goes over to greet them and introduces them to Sander. Most of them already know who the famous Sander Driesen is, or at least have heard of him but Robbe does it out of politeness. It also helps to tell the others from the bar that whatever argument between them has been resolved, for now at least. 

They do opening drills and stretching and Sander’s unplanned appearance means there are just enough players for a complete practice match. Their coach randomly draws names and forms the teams. For the first set, Sander and Robbe are on opposite teams. 

Sander can’t help but be a little disappointed. He had so desperately wanted to play with him again. 

_ ‘Soon’ _ he tells himself. 

“Looks like we’re still opponents, Driesen,” Robbe smirks at him. 

“Oh we are going to win, we have Jens,” he jokes and points to their friend getting warmed up by jumping up and down. 

Jens standing nearby chimes in, “hey I heard that and I’m flattered, thank you.” He places a hand on his chest to show his gratefulness. “But don’t bring me into your little rivalry.”

Robbe rolls his eyes as Sander laughs. 

The first set begins with Sander serving. 

He breathes, twirly the ball in his hands. The whistle sounds and he looks up as he throws the ball up, in front of him and then he runs and does a powerful spike serve. 

He hasn’t properly played in a couple weeks but he’s still top of his form, not at all lacking power. 

Robbe’s team isn’t able to keep it in the air. Sander smiles to himself as he prepares for his next serve. Sander has always liked serves. It’s the only play in the game where he is truly alone and if he scores a point with a service ace, that’s his point. 

He twirls the ball again and performs another powerful serve straight at Robbe in the back row. 

But Robbe receives it perfectly, sending it very nicely to his setter. 

“Nice receive!” his teammates cry out. 

Sander can’t help but express a sign of slight annoyance and catches a glimpse of Robbe’s smirk at him as he moves onto the court to get ready for his side’s play. 

He knew Robbe must have gotten better since the last time he saw so really he’s proud but he’s also surprised. This is the first time he’s seen Robbe play in two years and all Sander can think is  _ fuck, he’s still good, maybe even better. _

Robbe scores his team’s first point with a powerful cross spike which leaves Sander speechless. 

_ Fuck. He’s jumping even higher now. _

In Sander’s case, after his two serves, he struggles to find his rhythm. It takes a few tries for Sander to sync up with the member of his team. The ball doesn’t always line up, going a bit high or falling short. With every missed point, Sander grows more and more frustrated with himself. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m still trying to work out distances,” he apologies. 

The others are understanding and shake away his apology. He’s just not used to the players or this gym yet, but he’ll get there. He’ll prove that he too belongs on the national team. 

Then he’ll show Robbe that he’s gotten better too. 

It’s when he rotates around to the first row that Sander’s plays click. He manages a quick from the back with Moyo. 

“Nice toss, man.” They high five, boosting their team’s morale. 

Sander knows what his next play is. The ball comes back to his side and then–

“Up front!” Robbe yells, throwing himself forward in an attempt to catch Sander’s setter dump. 

He misses. 

As he picks himself up, he says to the setter standing in front him, “you little shit.”

Sander laughs, “Still got it!”

“You wish! I read you! You’re just pissed I still remember that look you make when you’re going to do a dump.”

“Maybe you did, but not quickly enough, Robi–be,” he catches himself falling back to the old nickname he used to call him when they were younger. He’s still not quite sure if they’re there yet. He’s not even sure if they’ll ever be as close as they were all those years ago. 

But Robbe catches the slip up. He tenses up a bit but still smiles at him across the net. 

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ Sander had in fact seen Robbe play since the end of their university years, but on television and for five minutes. So does that really count? _

_ “And the Belgian line up!” the game commentator announced the starters for the match. Robbe isn’t part of them but that did not surprise Sander. This was Robbe’s first professional game where he was with more experienced players. Sander hadn’t been a starter in his first match either. _

_ Sander didn’t really watch the game, however. He left it on in the background as he went around his studio apartment in Tokyo tidying for the first time since he had arrived. Sure, he had unpacked and was no longer living out of boxes, but daily practices or touristy things had left him little time to properly take care of his living space. So this is what he was doing on his rest day while the sky chucked it down, making it less than ideal for visiting the new city, cleaning. How fascinating.  _

_ Today of all days was Belgium’s first match of the season and Sander had wanted to watch to see how they were getting along. It wasn’t ‘getting along without him.’ Sander had seen how Robbe played without him before. It was genuinely just to see how they play with new players from around the world, some of the best. Today could not have been more perfect to be stuck at home. _

_ Occasionally, Sander would watch a rally and give his computer screen a comment about the play, nothing more. He didn’t look over at the bench where he knew he would find Robbe, cheering for his team. He didn’t want to see how Robbe had changed. _

_ He was in the kitchen when he heard the bell sound signifying a player change and then the commentator saying, “Number 5 Mansouri, middle blocker, switching out with Number 21 Ijzermans.” _

_ Sander nearly dropped the plate he was putting away in the cupboard. He ran back to his laptop to see, sure enough, a head of brown hair he could recognise anywhere stepping onto the court and high fiving all his teams as he took his position in the back row. He saw him stand next to Jens as he said something that no one could hear except them.  _

_ It was their team to serve. The other side managed to send it back which was saved spectacularly by Jens. Then the setter set it in Robbe’s direction and suddenly he could no longer watch.  _

_ His mind filled with regret. He should have been the one to set to Robbe. But he had left that option behind and now immediately regretted his decision.  _

_ Why was he here on the other side of the world and not there with Robbe, playing together like they had always planned? Was he a coward? Just running away from everything like always?  _

_ He slammed the computer shut and never watched a Belgian match again the entire time he was abroad.  _

_ The only way he knew how his home country was doing in the ranks was through his current teammates who thought maybe Sander would want to know or talk about it seeing as the team had several of his childhood friends. _

_ Except Sander didn’t want to know. It only made him feel worse about ruining a relationship with someone whom he loved very much. _

_ There was that dumb saying that Sander hated but everyone knew:“distance only makes the heart grow fonder.” Well, that was Sander. He hadn’t realised it when he had been so close to him, but now he was starting to think that maybe Robbe had been right.  _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

“Fuck, Ijzermans is serving.” 

_ Ijzermans? Since when is Robbe's serve anything to worry about? If anything it’ll just fall short and– _

But then Sander realises Robbe is standing a few steps away from the serve line. 

_ He’s doing a jump serve? _

He looks around at his team getting into receiving positions. However confused he is, he does the same. 

He watches Robbe across the court twirl the ball between his hands, much like how he does when preparing. Robbe breathes out, throws the ball into the air and serves. 

Straight. At. Sander. 

He lands lightly on his feet and smirks as he looks at his panicked target. 

But Sander is preoccupied with the ball coming straight at him. 

_ Fuck.  _

_ It’s a jump floater. Robbe has gotten good.  _

He struggles with an overhand receive and it goes flying off the court. 

“Nice serve, Robbe!” his teammates all shout. 

Robbe nods and walks back to the line, smiling to himself, “so Driesen, what happened there? I thought you were the master at service receives,” he teases. “You better be ready because you’re getting the next one too,” he shouts over to Sander making both sides smile, as he points to him with the hand he’s holding the volleyball. 

Sander prepares himself and bends his knees. “Give me your worst.”

Robbe serves and Sander gets it into the air, “Jens, cover!”

Robbe grimaces at the fact that he was able to get it so cleanly, however, he’s still proud that Sander now can’t set since he got first touch. But Sander’s team has Jens who has perfected a libero toss, so really it is not that much of a setback.

Robbe looks at the other side of the net as if it were in slow motion. 

Jens steps right before the attack line and jumps as he sets the ball midair to Sander who had shouted, “give it here!” coming from the right. Sander spikes the ball in an incredibly sharp straight through the one and a half blockers who couldn’t make it to Sander’s position in time. 

He lets out a “yes!” as the ball hits the floor. He finds Robbe and shoots him a broad smile, raising a teasing eyebrow. “You’re not the only one who has new tricks.”

_ It is on. _ And it was. They had always been known for their friendly competition, however, for Robbe it was like payback. Payback for having left him, to make sure that Sander understood that he had continued to get better, even without him there giving him his perfect tosses. 

Jens just rolls his eyes. “Ok, just go serve Sander.”

“Oh right.” He hurries to the back line and they play again.

Everyone is starting to feel the groove of playing and it becomes a friendly match with everyone performing at the top of their ability. Seeing Robbe and Sander bantering with each other has given them all the motivation to crush the other team.

For the first time, Sander was witnessing the current ability of the Belgian national team upclose. Each person has their specialty which meant that Sander had so many possibilities for the best chance to score his team points.

And all Sander can think is ‘ _ fuck, this is my new team.’ _

And he couldn’t be more proud but first he had to gain everyone’s trust.

And that meant Robbe’s too.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was ready to have this out like days ago but i had tasfia read it and she said she wanted SLOW BURN so now it's slow burn... ((kinda?? it's only going to be 4 chapters so idk)) soooo go blame her i guess haha we shall continue with the mutual pining very soon :elmo_flames:
> 
> anyways you can find me on tumblr like always: to-enter-polaris  
> hugs and kusjes🤍


	3. taking flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a 9k chapter so fair warning, but this story is almost done!
> 
> TW: light mention of blood and injury in the very first flashback scene. it's not very graphic but it is talked about for a few lines so you can skip all the italics if you wish. i'll summarise the clip in the end notes.

_ Tough opponents were nothing new to Sander. He was used to them. But by the time Robbe, Jens and the few others from their year joined, their high school team was actually quite good and started facing off against equally or higher ranked teams. Each match was a chance to grow, to try out new plays, even if it was during the game itself. They were known for being a reckless team, mainly thanks to Sander and his impulsive nature to try new things as soon as he saw them. Robbe wasn’t much better either. He too had a knack for acquiring new skills. The two were quite terrifying when left along to their own accord. Sometimes their recklessness paid off, sometimes it didn’t. But despite being somehow made for each other during the game, Sander and Robbe were each other’s toughest opponents off the court too. Yes, they pushed each other to constantly be better, play better, but they also drove each other insane. Constantly butting heads and teasing each other, it drove Senne crazy sometimes, meaning he would simply just let them be and figure it out on their own, which they often did anyways.  _

_ “Listen! Your timing isn’t right! How many times do I have to tell you?” They were in a match against a school from Liege to rank in the national high school playoffs during Sander’s final year. “You especially have to pay attention because you’re short!” _

_ Robbe shot him a look of annoyance. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m trying!” _

_ They have basically been friends now, but during an official match, that did not stop them from sometimes rilling each other up. It was a love-hate kind of friendship. They were supportive but they also pushed each other to be better.  _

_ “Well try harder,” Sander glared back. “That’s the third one you’ve let through today.”  _

_ Robbe groans. “I. Know! You don’t need to lecture me about it Sander. I know I need to jump before the others so I get my max height at the same time as you.” He frowned looking annoyed at both himself for not being able to do it properly and Sander for belittling him about it. It was definitely something easier said than done.  _

_ What frustrated him the most was he was doing so well with everything else today; it was just the blocking that he was struggling. And serving, but everyone knew he sucked at that, but he was trying to get better.  _

_ They shuffled back into position. _

_ “Ok! Let’s cut it off!” Senne called from behind the two of them.  _

_ They were all staring at the server. The whistle sounded. The ball was tossed and was messily received by Jens, which sent it back over the net. _

_ Jens apologises, “Sorry, sorry, I judged it wrong.” _

_ Sander, Robbe, and Moyo all in the first row moved up to the net in order to prepare for a block of the spike that was going to come back any second now. The other team’s setter looked up at the ball in the air, and then tossed to one of their wing spikers. In a flash, the three of them moved in front of the spiker and jumped. _

_ It hit Robbe’s hand. “One touch!” he screamed back to his team. _

_ Senne and Jens scrambled to pick it up and sent it over to Sander who then set it for Moyo who finally got the kill.  _

_ Antwerp 9 to Liege 14. _

_ A point for their team. They all cheered and high fived Moyo. _

_ Sander turned to Robbe, to congratulate him for finally getting his timing right, ‘about time,’ but when he saw the smaller boy, he knew something was wrong. Robbe was hunched over clutching his right hand. _

_ “Robbe?” he ran over to him and signalled his coach to call for a timeout. “Something’s wrong!” he said to the rest of his team. _

_ Robbe looked in pain, holding his hand which was now slightly bleeding. _

_ “Fuck,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. _

_ “You need to get that checked out and stop the bleeding before you can come back.” Senne spoke from behind him, startling him. _

_ Robbe felt the wave of disappointment wash over him. He had been expecting this, he knew he’d need to tend to his jammed finger before coming back.  _

_ He slowly nodded at Senne before turning to Jens. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.” He wanted so badly to stay on the court, he was doing so well. Well, besides the blocking, nothing there seemed to right there apparently.  _

_ And he then turned to Sander because he felt he needed to apologise to him too, it was his own fault he had gotten injured and now, maybe, his team wouldn’t be able to do as well without him. But maybe that was also just bullshit and he was naive to think his team depended on him this much. “I’m sorry.” _

_ To his surprise, Sander looked more worried than anything else, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s not your fault, we’ll stall them so you can come back and finish this set.” They were already five points behind and struggling to make a break. _

_ Robbe nodded and turned to walk to the medic station, but Sander continued, “Just– just, come back soon and ready to play, okay?” He gave him a small reassuring smile. _

_ “You got it,” Robbe replied and left the gym with the team’s manager. _

_ For the next few rallies Sander couldn’t shake his nerves. He was worried to say the least. Worried about Robbe and if he’d be able to make it back in time before the end of the set; they just need to stall and catch up to the other team, but also worried about his own skills.  _

_ Was he a good enough setter without Robbe to do their ultra quick? Were his attacks with the rest of their team equally as good or was Robbe just incredible for being able to hit anything he set because of his unwavering trust in Sander that the ball would come no matter where he was on the court?  _

_ No, Sander was good. He was talented and had natural abilities only to be enhanced by his passion and love for the sport. He had really mastered his skill of being able to set precisely anywhere on the court at any time without giving anything away to the other team, making it more difficult to read blocks. Sander’s spatial awareness on the court was incredible. He understood everything and everyone.  _

_ He understood how players moved, his ultimate skill. He may not have realised it back then, but each of Sander’s tosses we’re filled with care to match each of his different teammates.  _

_ When they had finally caught up, Senne having just scored, the gym doors flew open and Robbe came running in holding a lightly bandaged hand. Sander followed him as Robbe went to their coach and spoke very quickly, probably summarising the extent of his injury.  _

_ To Sander’s delight, he saw the coach hand Robbe a number paddle to switch back into the game. The referee swapped players and Robbe found his place in the rotation next to Sander in the front row.  _

_ “Told you we’d catch up for you,” Sander said, smirking. _

_ Jens overheard them and replied, “Oh please, Aaron got three service aces with his floater. He’s to thank.” _

_ Robbe was shocked as Sander rolled his eyes. Robbe found Aaron over on the bench and gave him a thumbs up.  _

_ “So, are you good to make kills?” Sander needed to know how to toss to him or if to just use Robbe as a decoy for a while. _

_ Robbe vigorously nodded his head. “Don’t worry, I’m good, I’m good.” _

_ “Okay.” _

_ Senne, the ace he was, sent an intense jump serve over the net. Their libero did a seal dive to catch it and as their middle blocker came around the front to spike it, Robbe and Sander jumped to block it. It hit Robbe’s injured hand but fell on Liege’s side of the court. _

_ Antwerp 22 to Liege 21. _

_ Sander heard Robbe wince as he held his bandaged hand to his chest. His middle finger had been wrapped to his ring finger to keep it from moving around as he hit the ball.  _

_ “Are you okay?” Sander caught him off guard. _

_ Startled Robbe answered, “Yea, yea it's fine.” Sander didn’t look convinced. “Trust me, it doesn’t hurt,” Robbe lied. He was pushing through the pain. He wanted to play. He wanted to stay on the court for as long as possible. _

_ Sander decided it was best not to continue arguing so dropped the conversation.  _

_ Senne served again and this time the other team sent it straight back. Sander figured Robbe was ready to spike again so he tossed to him. Robbe jumped like he usually did, high like he had grown wings, soaring over everybody else and spiked through the blocker who had barely been able to catch up with him. _

_ Antwerp 23 to Liege 21. _

_ Robbe grimaced through the pain. _

_ “Robbe, are you sure you’re ok?” _

_ Robbe spun around to glare at the setter, “Sander, quit babying me! I’m fine!” _

_ “You don’t look fine! Maybe you should take a step back.” _

_ “I swear to god, Sander, if you don’t toss to me if I’m the best shot then–” he couldn’t finish his sentence but Sander knew what he meant. Robbe wasn’t ready to take it easy if it meant the team would suffer. He seemed to be playing okay, better even than before he had gotten injured. He was just in pain. Robbe seemed to understand what was through his head. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. They wrapped it tightly so it can’t move.” _

_ An “Okay,” was all Sander could muster. _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Other than the squeaks from their shoes and their occasional shouts of “one touch!” and “nice receive,” the gym is silent. Everyone is in their element, playing to win. Sander can’t help but be in awe at everyone’s coordination. Everyone moved in perfect unison for synchronized attacks, not letting on at all who was actually going to get the ball and Sander’s refined sets also never gave anything away. Watching, paying such close attention to the ball’s position. 

“Sorry it’s low. Sander!” Jens shouts. He had been late to catch a spike from Robbe and it only went to half the net’s height.

_ Fuck, that  _ is _ very low _ .

Anyone else would have simply done the best they could with an underhand receive. But not Sander. 

He squats, keeping balance with a leg extended to the left, low to the ground and to get under the ball and tosses it perfectly to a waiting Moyo on the right. Perfect stability, no hesitation. He sets the ball like it was any other well placed bump. Even Moyo looks surprised and, after it bounces off the blockers out of bounds, he, along with both sides of the net stare at Sander.

“You are insane, you know that?” chuckles Senne. 

The setter on the other team, stares at him in awe, eyes wide and excited. “The core muscles you must have! That was really incredible. I would’ve just done an underhand.”

Sander just shrugs and looks at everyone who still have their eyes all on him. “As setters, it's our job to get the ball in the best position possible for our spikers and overhand sets have the most control.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re on our team.” Someone else from the opposite side spoke up. 

Sander finally smiles. “It’s good to be back– errr, well here.” He looks around at the rest of his team and spots Robbe looking at him. When they make eye contact, Robbe smiles before quickly looking away.

They end up playing a couple more sets but never changed teams to allow Sander to get used to his 4 teammates' spikes and habits. If he’s honest, Sander is relieved. He had been nervous to toss to Robbe again. Now it was just a problem for another time. It definitely helped him ease back into having Robbe around, not exactly in the way he wanted, but it was a start. He was already so grateful that Robbe had accepted his return, even if he was potentially leaving the team. Being against each other seemed to be what they did best at the moment, and the last thing Sander really remembered of playing with Robbe was as rivals with their university teams. 

Exhausted, the team gathers their things and go to the locker room to shower and continue on with their day. Coming out of the shower already dressed, Sander spots Robbe talking with Moyo with only a towel around his waist. His back is to Sander and Sander can see his muscles contracting as he reogranises his locker, looking for his day clothes. The water droplets trickle down his back and catch the light ever so lightly. Sander can’t look away. As their conversation finishes, Robbe still not having the decency to put on a shirt, Moyo walks past Sander to exit the locker room. Robbe turns with him to wave him out and catches sight of Sander looking at him. 

Now Sander can see Robbe’s face along with the rest of him. His face gets warm.

Robbe questions his staring, “What?” He’s not quite sure why Sander looks so surprised. It’s definitely not the first time they’ve seen each other shirtless in a locker room. Sure, maybe it’s been a few years but they both knew the other wasn’t bad to look at in the slightest. 

“There’s no way our workouts are that different. How do you still look like that?” Sander stammers at Robbe, making the latter blush. Now they know they are both red from embarrassment. 

“Oh please, don’t act like you don’t look like this.”

Sander remains speechless.

“Thanks for waiting for me.” Robbe says as he throws on a shirt, Sander trying very hard not to look at him. “Jens wanted to talk about something and then Moyo, so... well.”

“Yea it’s no problem,” he says as he’s found a particularly interesting portion of blank wall in the opposite direction as to not have to look at Robbe as he finishes getting dressed.

Robbe notices Sander’s discomfort, “Ok you can look at me now. I am no longer hideously unbearable to look at,” he teases him. 

“That’s not why I- no I didn’t-“ he’s lost for words. 

Sander feels his face getting warmer still and runs a hand through his own damp hair.

“Oh, relax” Robbe says laughing at him. “So what did you do for Christmas? Actually, do they celebrate Christmas in Japan?” Robbe seems genuinely interested. He picks up his duffel and leads the two of them out of the locker room.

“Oh, uh, yea they do I guess, nothing like the craziness here, but they celebrate it. But I didn’t do much.”

Robbe lets out a small  _ oh _ . An oh as if to mean  _ I’m sorry you had to be alone _ .

Sander quickly continues, sensing Robbe’s discomfort, “But that’s because I was packing up my apartment to come back. It was a hectic couple of days because I knew I’d be back before New Year’s.” 

Robbe thinks about his next words carefully. “Well, that just means we have to make your New Year’s even more special.” He grins up at him and Sander simply nods. 

That’s right; today was New Year’s Eve and Sander definitely did not have any plans.

“You don’t have anyone else to spend new year with? I only ask because,” and now he seems uncomfortable. “Maybe you’re dating someone or something, I don’t know,” he quickly whispers out.

Exactly. Robbe could have a boyfriend but now he just felt pity for Sander, an old friend and now teammate, who had come back to the country and was now forced to spend the holiday period all by his lonesome. So naturally, Robbe being the kind soul he was, could be willing to sacrifice his plans with his potentially amazing boyfriend. Potentially being used to describe ‘boyfriend’ and not ‘amazing’ because whoever Robbe dated, Sander would in fact not find them amazing even if deep down he knew they were everything Robbe needed. 

Whoever Robbe dated probably wouldn’t even realise how incredible Robbe was himself. How thoughtful and kind and how he was the sweetest person to be around; how he has the cutest little dimples when he giggles or how his eyes creased when he laughed or his little freckles when he’s been out in the sun for too long. Or when he is embarrassed and his ears become all red and warm to the touch. 

He knew he had no right to expect anything of Robbe seeing as he had been the one to push him away. He knew the middle blocker always put others before himself, ready to drop everything for someone he cared about, or even play through an injury as he had done before in the past for the best outcome for his team. It was never to show off, always purely selfless. That’s what Sander loved about Robbe. And when Robbe had finally put himself first and told Sander his feelings, Sander had only and fucked it up, crushing him. 

So how can Sander expect anything of Robbe now?

Robbe seems to notice his wave of jealousy washing over him and smirks, “Sander, if I was dating anyone, do you think I would have let you stay with me all this time?”

Sander feels his cheeks heating up, it’d be a miracle if he wasn’t bright red now. “I don’t know, maybe you have dated and–”

But Robbe cuts him off, “I have not slept with anyone, much less really dated anyone these last two years.”

_ Oh. _

Sander silently lets out a relieved sigh. 

But he also felt guilt rising up.  _ Why not? _

“And not for lack of trying.” He drifts off. Robbe can’t bring himself to say what he really means, that Sander is it for him and that even if Sander hadn’t exactly reciprocated his feelings, he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t date anyone else not when he longed for Sander who was on the other side of the world. 

So when Sander showed up at his door, he was surprised, relieved and angry all at once. 

“Life just kept getting in the way and stuff never worked out,” he continues, reassuring him he’s telling the truth. Silently he finishes to himself  _ ‘And I just could never stop thinking about you everytime.’ _

Unsure how to continue this part of the conversation, Sander deviated from the subject. “I just don’t want your pity for being an idiot to have just showed up at your door.”

“I don’t pity you!” Robbe doesn’t know where this is coming from. “What’s so wrong about wanting to spend New Years with a friend you haven’t seen in 2 years?”  _ And are still desperately in love with? _

Sander looks taken aback. “So we’re friends?”

Robbe is now speaking agitatedly at Sander’s stupid question. “Of course, we’re friends, dumbass! That doesn’t mean I’m not angry at you for leaving, because I am. I am still angry at you. But we’re friends, you idiot.” How could he think anything otherwise? After all they’ve been through, why doesn’t he realise that yet? But then Robbe is second guessing himself, “I mean unless you don’t want to be…”

“Oh no, no, no. I want to be friends. We’re friends.” Sander cracks a smile at him.

_ Friends. What if I want to be more than friends? _

Robbe had wanted that after university, but Sander had been scared. Scared to admit his feelings. 

But he settled on being friends again to start with. “Best friends?” he asks.

Robbe rolls his eyes but also laughs, “Sure, best friends.”

“Good. We’re best friends.” 

It was a start.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ “Sander, it's not the national team I want, it’s  _ you _.” Robbe spoke out of desperation. Everything always came back to Sander and his feelings from him. “I want to be with  _ you _.” _

_ After that day in the gym when Sander had told him about the Japan offer, Robbe excused himself, saying he needed some time to himself, and left Sander speechless. He had left before Sander had had a chance to say anything.  _

_ They went several days without talking to each other, aided by the fact, one Sander was constantly reminded of, that they were  _ not  _ on the same team. It was the longest they'd ever gone without seeing each other, or even simply texted each other. Even during Sander’s few episodes where he remained in bed, Robbe texted him daily to remind him that he had people who cared about it and would still be here when he felt better and wanted to see other people.  _

_ Robbe had always held on so tightly to Sander, keeping him close. And maybe that was because Robbe had finally found someone that he clicked with, not just in volleyball in the way Sander understood the way Robbe moved, to make the best play, but also emotionally, as two souls being perfectly made for each other, though they both still had yet to express it. _

_ Except Robbe didn’t text him. Robbe was letting him go. And the silence made Sander too nervous to reach out so he sat in the dark, mauling over his career and whether or not he’d made the right decision.  _

_ He told himself that even if he didn’t like it, he would have given it a shot in Japan and he could always come back here, come back home.  _

_ So when Robbe finally showed up at his flat unexpectedly, Sander let him in and they continued their conversation from the gym. _

_ They sat on opposite ends of the couch and faced each other, cross legged as Sander played with the pilling bits of fabric and fraying ends to keep his hands occupied.  _

_ “Did you ever think about how you leaving would make me feel?” Robbe spoke in a quiet voice. _

_ “I thought you’d be happy for me.” _

_ “Sander, I am but at the same time, and I told you this the first time we had this conversation, I thought you wanted us to play together, here, for Belgium. That’s what I strove to do, for that chance for us to play together again, because I love to play with you, but also just to be around you. And then I’m learning you’re going across the world?” _

_ “Fuck Robbe you say this now, but I’m just too much of a burden to get close to. I don’t want you to have to deal with that. With me. I don’t want feelings to hold you back.” _

_ “Feelings? That’s all this is to you? Feelings? Sander,  _ I love you _.” _

_ It wasn’t the first time Robbe told him that and back then he thought it meant something else, but this time he realised exactly what Robbe was telling him. _

_ Robbe went on, “And now you’re saying my love for you is going to hold you back?” _

_ “No it’s going to hold  _ you _ back.” _

_ “Dammit Sander, I’m the not the one with a Japan offer sitting on the table, well it’s not an offer anymore seeing as you’ve already fucking taken it.” There were angry tears welling up in the corner of his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He could not cry in front of Sander, not now he had made his feelings for the blond boy sitting in front of him crystal clear. _

_ Robbe continues, “I am perfectly fine playing here, for my home country, especially to have the opportunity to stay near my mum. I’m not the one scared of being held back, Sander.”  _

_ He got up from the couch and gathered his things. Halfway out the door, he turned back to Sander who had started to follow him to the door. “Do what you want, go to fucking Japan if you want.” _

_ And he was out the door and let it close behind him.  _

_ Maybe Robbe was right. Maybe he was afraid of being held back, but not by Robbe. By himself and his feelings, those of doubt and self-loathing, so if he didn’t leap off the cliff to play for an international now, when would he ever? He wasn’t afraid of change if it meant moving forward, continually growing and improving and this Japan offer was just that, a potential good change? _

_ So Sander leapt across the chasm and it took him two years to figure out how to get back.  _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

“So, what do you do when you’re not practicing?”

“Well, I practice a lot for one. But if it’s a forced rest day then I’m either hanging out with Jens and the boys or playing video games or something.” He points to his Nintendo Switch plugged into the flatscreen television hanging on the wall. Next to it on the floating shelf are all the boxes of the physical games he owns. 

Sander wanders over to look at them, turning his head 90 degrees to properly read all the names. He pulls one out, “Overcooked? Gotta remember how to work together, you know? Now that we’re playing together again.”

Robbe rolls his eyes, “Yea yea until I leave which is very soon.”

“I said I was gonna show you that you should stay,” Sander pouts. “Maybe this is one of my plans to show you that we’re great together.” Robbe’s eyes widen and Sander realises what he’s just said. He quickly adds, “Together on the court, I mean.”

_ Right, just on the court because we are just friends. _

“Oh, right. Okay, Overcooked it is but you better listen! I am head chef, you are just my sous chef.”He walks over to set up the game and hands Sander one of the controllers as he himself takes both joycons. 

Sander looks at him in great offense. “Hey, that’s not fair! Who’s been cooking you breakfast every morning recently? I’ve become a great chef.” 

Robbe doesn’t answer but starts the game and they pick their characters. 

Sander picks the racoon in a wheelchair, which earns him a scoff from Robbe, “Why the hell did you pick that one?”

“Why are you hating on the character in a wheelchair? That’s not very nice Robbe.”

“I’m judging more your choice of the trash panda.”

Sander looks baffled. “What’s wrong with the raccoon?”

Robbe rolls his eyes in amusement, “It’s just weird to like raccoons, I don’t know.”

Sander just shakes his head. Robbe continues, “You see, the actual panda. Clearly superior.” He had selected his character as the panda, obviously.

“Agree to disagree.” Sander humphs and then quickly adds, “but the wheelchair raccoon is better. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Robbe laughs. “That’s literally not the point of the game! We’re supposed to work together to win, not compete with each other.”

“Yea well, I bet I can complete more orders than you!” Sander smirks at him.

Robbe gapes at him. “Oh it is on, Driesen!”

They start at a fairly easy level: sushi. Getting familiar with the controls again, the two players concentrate very hard on their orders, not really helping each other out and rather zooming around the kitchen to prepare their own ingredients. Everytime one would knock the other out of the way, light hearted arguing and laughing ensued. Everytime Sander would take one of Robbe’s ingredients just as it finished cooking, Robbe would protest and gently punch him in the arm. 

They were having fun but by no means actually working together. They managed to do well until they hit a level that separated them on the screen and they were forced to throw ingredients back and forth. 

As the screen loads and they realise what they had to do, Sander says, “Well fuck, looks like we have to work together this time.” He turns to look Robbe in the eyes.

“You’re right,” Robbe answers softly. “Ok so you have all the ingredients and I’ve got the stove and send off.”

The timer begins. “Ok shit pass me the steak so I can start cooking it.”

“Okay, okay!” Sander throws him a couple steaks across the chasm after missing the first time and earning him a “you really do suck” from Robbe which makes him smile even though he was slightly offended. 

_ I’ve really missed this. _

“Ahh why are you sending me all these ingredients?! Can’t you cut them and put them on the plate and just send that over?” Robbe is running around the screen picking everything up.

“Oh, yea maybe that’s a good idea,”he laughs, realising that Robbe is probably right, strategy wise. “Your steak is burning. YOUR STEAK IS BURNING!”

“STOP YELLING! I can see that it’s burning.” 

“Grab the freaking fire extinguisher! It’s right there!” Sander is pointing to the screen, looking panicked.

“You’re stressing me out!” The fire gets put out but the timer is almost over and they have definitely not passed the level. 

Sander sits back, “Well, looks like we’re doing that again. We were doing so well until you decided to set the entire kitchen on fire.”

“That’s not my fault you were making me cut everything while you were just sitting on your ass throwing ingredients.”

“Rude.” Sander replies, but they both laugh.

Playing video games is something Sander had not expected to remind him of his friendship with Robbe. This was the first one-on-one conversation they had had together that was not ending in Robbe walking away or yelling at him. Ok, true, they were yelling at each other for being terrible at the game, but that was just the stress speaking. They were actually having fun. 

Several hours go by and they find their groove. Their plays just flow together. They’re calm, and aside from the occasional banter of someone fucking up, they’re really enjoying themselves. It’s like when they played before; before everything changed.

“Did you want to go out for dinner before Senne’s party? I don’t really want to cook on New Years, if I’m honest,” Robbe suggests at one point.

Eyes still glued on the screen, Sander nods. “Sure, did you have some place in mind?”

Robbe quickly glances over at him before redirecting his attention on his little cartoon character chopping some lettuce. “No, but I’m sure you can figure it out later.”

Well that was a plan, to say the least. But they would figure it out, just like they always did.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ Spring in Japan is a wonderful time to visit. Soft pink cherry blossom petals litter the ground making pastel paths worthy of royalty. Cherry blossoms that bring hope and happiness after the long period of cold weather. The effect they have is magical; all the flowers do. For a new start it’s wonderful. _

_ He had been there a week and barely touched his boxes, not wanting to make it official that this tiny studio apartment was now his home. He didn’t even really have furniture besides shelves that had yet to be put together. It was all just boxes.  _

_ He’s in the kitchen making a late lunch when the doorbell sounds. He wasn’t expecting anyone today and he definitely had not met anyone yet. He looked through the little peephole before opening the door. _

Oh that is not who I expected. At all.

_ He opens the door and there stands Robbe with a small suitcase. _

_ Grinning at him broadly, Robbe hugged him, “Hi! I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. I wanted to travel and thought why not surprise you and then Senne gave me your address.” _

_ Sander was shocked to say the least. _

Why was Robbe here?

_ He tentatively wrapped his arms loosely around the smaller one’s body, before quickly letting go. Robbe was definitely hanging on for longer, but the smile of his face when Sander saw him again was one he could only mirror. _

_ “I just wasn’t expecting you is all,” he ushered Robbe into the living space. _

_ Robbe took in his surroundings, “Wow, you haven’t unpacked for shit!” He motioned at the boxes still piled around the room and then looked questioningly at Sander. _

_ Sander just shrugged. He didn’t have an excuse really. Maybe it was laziness after all. He liked being in Japan so far; granted he hadn’t been out much because of all the rain the past week but it had a vibe that he enjoyed. It was kind of relaxing and people seemed to be very grounded and welcoming. _

_ “So, good, now that you’re here, you can help me.” _

_ Robbe spun around to look at him, “What?” _

_ “It’s just, you’re staying in Tokyo for at least a week, right?” Robbe nodded so Sander went on, “Well, then I’m not gonna kick you out, that’d be dumb, so stay here, with me. I have a couch.” _

_ “I’d like that,” he gave him a small smile and then turned back to the packed room after putting his suitcase in a corner, out of the way. “So, where do we start?” _

_ Sander laughed, “Did you want something to eat? I was just making food.” _

_ “I’m ok, I ate on the plane.” He seemed so excited to see Sander. They hadn’t spoken since the night Robbe had stormed out of his apartment, rightly upset at Sander’s sudden decision to move to Japan.  _

_ He tried his best to push this conversation to the back of his mind but the three months of not seeing or hearing from him to suddenly having him show up at his door on the other side of the world made it impossible to forget. Not knowing what else to say, he walked back to the kitchen after pointing to some boxes labeled ‘bedroom,’ and said “I guess those, after the shelf is put together. _

_ Robbe nodded enthusiastically and went over to get started. Sander ate in silence in the kitchen, still not knowing what the hell he was going to say to Robbe. He couldn’t tell him to just leave, but wasn’t this just awkward for him too? Sander has just left the country, not looking back, and now maybe he was beginning to regret his decision, maybe, just maybe? But at the same time, he wanted to play the sport he loved with people from other countries. That’s why he took the offer, not to leave Robbe. He was just confused. He listened to Robbe banging together the pieces of wood to presumably build the little shelf he had planned to put in his room.  _

_ When he padded back out in the living room, he found Robbe sitting on the floor looking through the boxes Sander had pointed out earlier.  _

_ He heard Sander’s footsteps and turned to face him, “Hey! You really have the most random stuff in here,” he giggled. _

_ “Robbe, why are you here?” He couldn’t keep questioning it in head. He needed to know. _

_ Robbe’s smile faded and his voice got quieter, “I just missed you.. And I didn’t want the last thing you remember of us was me angrily leaving you.” He didn’t look at him. “So it was a nice excuse to come visit Japan with you.” he quickly added on. _

_ “So it wasn’t to try to get me to come back?” _

_ “Well–” _

_ “Robbe, I told you! I want to do this. I need to do this. Alone. I need to play and not have distractions. I need to prove to myself that I’m as good as people tell me I am.” There was no holding it back anymore. As soon as the words left Sander’s mouth, he regretted the way he had said them.  _

_ Robbe’s heart dropped. Sander didn’t want him. Sander didn’t need him. Not anymore. _

_ He had said it. To Sander, Robbe was a stepping stone, a crutch to his ability. They may have been an incredible duo back in highschool and even then in university Sander played with several of their teammates from highschool, so all those plays and connections carried over.  _

_ Robbe stayed silent for a while, just staring into his green eyes that perfectly reflected his own emotions. “So is this just your way of running from me after I told you my feelings?” he finally admitted softly. _

_ “I– what?” _

_ “You know, it’d be a whole lot simpler if you just said it to my face that you don’t feel the same way. It least then I wouldn’t be doing stupid things like travelling to a foreign country on a scrap of hope.” _

_ “This has nothing to do with you!” Sander exploded. And then he realised what he had just said. He clapped his hand over his mouth, “That’s not–” _

_ “You’re right, it’s always been about you. Puppet master on the court and all of that, the player who’s so incredible at knowing which play to use and can carry it out from anywhere, who’s so fucking talented, and does things other setters only dream of but the only person who can’t see that is you.” He stood up, cheeks flushed with anger and eyes blazing. They started to burn with tears and Robbe did his best to hold them back.  _

_ He went on, “I came to support you and come celebrate your fucking birthday with you, becuase I know you sometimes have a hard time making friends and I didn’t want you to spend it alone.” He sighed, still glaring at him.  _

_ “I–,” Sander was lost for words. “I think I need to figure out what kind of player I am without you. We got so good because of each other, I–, I’m just hoping that we’re just as good when we don’t have each other to lean on and don’t have our competitive nature with each other like at uni.” He didn’t dare look at Robbe anymore and instead stared down at his hands that he was wringing together to give him something to do.  _

_ “If that’s what you want, but I can’t keep having this conversation with you, Sander.” And then he took strides around Sander, picked up his things and made his way to the door. “Come back when you fucking know what you want! Or don’t, I don’t care anymore.” Except he did care, and it killed him to say it but it was also emotionally draining and Robbe knew he couldn’t keep pining for someone who clearly did not want him back. _

_ In the end, he decided that he had to try to get Robbe back into his life. And Sander didn’t hear from him again until the night he showed up on his doorstep to tell him: “I know what I want.” but the look on Robbe’s face when he opened the door made the words get lost in his throat, never to be uttered that night.  _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Evening came quicker than either of them expected. They dressed up warmly for the cold evening ahead of them and went to a restaurant they had often frequent in university. For Sander it was a good sign that both of them we’re willing to relive these fond memories of the two of them in their younger years. It’s a chill evening with the two of them talking volleyball. What else would they be talking about?

“So, you got good at serving.” It’s not a question. Sander merely states the facts from his observation from that morning. He raises an eyebrow.

Taken aback, Robbe splutters, “Oh, yea I’ve really been working on that and I have to thank Moyo for my float. You picked up a few things too, didn’t you?”

Sander laughs and before he can answer, the waiter comes by to take their order. He turns to Sander first, “For you?” 

Sander replies with his order and before he can even finish, the waiter is blindly scrawling something on his little notebook and turns to beam at Robbe. Sander notices the difference in attitude, a little shocked. Robbe could not be more oblivious to it, but Sander doesn’t think twice of it and they go back to their casual conversation. It’s not until they have finished their food that the waiter comes back with a dessert menu.

“Oh, no thank you, we’ll just take the check,” Sander waves him away.

But the waiter takes none of that, “Please, it’s on the house for New Years Eve,” and sweetly hands a surprised Robbe the menu.

Sander rolls his eyes as Robbe looks down the menu, “Do you want to share a tiramisu, Driesen?”

“Yea, yea whatever,” he bats away his answer as Robbe and the waiter discuss. When the waiter finally leaves, Sander says, “He’s totally flirting with you!”

Robbe’s eyes widen as he leans back a bit. “What? No he isn’t.”

“Oh please! Anyone would be stupid not to flirt with you, tonight of all nights. I mean have you seen you?” He gestures to all of Robbe, feeling himself become slightly warm.

Sander knew he had no right to expect that Robbe would remain single his whole life, but recently he had begun to hope that he would be the one with Robbe, not some random waiter in a restaurant. He didn’t like the fact that this guy was hitting on Robbe with him sitting right there. They were clearly having a conversation and the waiter was just stepping all over Sander’s plan. His plan which was hopefully going to have Robbe forgive him for leaving in the first place, even if Sander himself hadn’t forgiven himself for it yet. 

Looking back now, he realised how blind he had been, wanting to prove himself a great volleyball player, when there were things that mattered more. Things like the one sitting right in front of him. 

Robbe scoffs, “Oh please, he is not. I’m sure–,” but Sander kicks him in the shin as the waiter comes back with the dessert and food bill. 

Sander quickly grabs it, and hands it back to Robbe, “See, he even left you his number and, oh, look he even wrote that his shift ends at 23h30! That’s thirty whole minutes before the new year!” Sander sneers sarcastically. “He’s totally flirting!”

Robbe glances down at the check, sure enough, what he assumed was the waiter’s number was hurriedly written across the top.

“Bold of him to assume that this wasn’t a date.” Sander crosses his arms, but also quickly decides he wants a bite of tiramisu before Robbe finishes it all.

“I would’ve said you were jealous, Sander.” He raises an eyebrow, questioning the sudden defensiveness. 

Sander let out a breath and made to reach for the check again, “I can pay, it’s fine.”

“What?”

“I said, I can pay, it’s the least I can do after crashing your house for the last few days.”

“We can split it.”

“No, I want to pay.” Sander was not going to let this go. He didn’t care about the money but rather the gesture and what it meant.

Robbe continues to hold the receipt out of reach of Sander who is now leaning over the table, trying to grab it. “I have money too, you know, if that’s what you’re trying to prove to me.”

“What?” This answer shocks him. “That’s not why– I just want to do something for you, what’s so hard to understand about that?”

Robbe rolls his eyes and now, tired of the conversation, drops the check on the table and gets up to leave. Sander quickly follows him when he realises what he’s doing and pulls out his card and hastily hands it to a waiter near the cash register. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says and he takes his card back and runs after Robbe. When he catches up with Robbe, he asks, “What is wrong, Robbe? Why wouldn’t you just let me pay? It would’ve been so much easier and then I would’ve let you pay next time.”

Robbe turns to him, still continuing to walk, he hisses, “Why do you have to be so romantic? On New Year’s Eve of all nights.”

Woah. Where did that come from? Why did Robbe think it was romantic? Does this mean he wanted it to be romantic but just wasn’t sure? Or was it now that he saw Sander as anything  _ but _ romantic and a relationship between the two of them was never going to happen? Sander’s head filled with so many questions 

So when Sander did not respond, not from lack of wanting to but rather that his entire brain was going into overdrive about an endless number of potential scenarios and means to Robbe’s reaction, he continues, “And now if anyone in that restaurant thought we were actually dating, they definitely don’t think so anymore because now they will think that we just had a break up or something.”

“Oh, I guess you’re right,” Sander whispers. “But that’s not why I wanted to do it.”

Robbe bats his reply away, “Whatever it’s fine, it’s over now,” and then quickly changes the subject, to Sander’s despair, “You haven't been to Senne and Zoe’s new place have you?”

Sander shakes his head.

Robbe hums, “Well, it’s Senne so it’s really nice and he somehow has the whole roof to himself, though it might be a little cold to actually have the party up there today.” 

He looks up at the sky as if it was going to tell him what the weather temperature was. It was almost 23h and definitely very cold. They both have their hands stuffed tightly in their coat pockets and burying the lower half of their faces in their scarf, or in Sander’s case, jacket collar, he had refused to wear a scarf and was now regretting it. It gives them an excuse not to talk because of the icy wind, too bitter to explore, so they walk faster. That too might help despite the unfriendly air surrounding them.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_ Out of breath, he reached the apartment and rapped on the door. After a few seconds of bouncing from one leg to the other, Robbe opened the door. Realising who it was, at this hour, he is surprised. _

_ “Sander, what are you do–” _

_ “I got an offer from Japan and–” but Robbe didn’t let him finish. His eyes were wide and sparkled with elation.  _

_ “Japan!?” Sander saw the look of excitement on his face, a look that Sander had a hard time to mirror. “Seriously? That’s amazing, Sander.”  _

_ He grabbed Sander’s arm, pulled him into the apartment and hugged him tightly as he kicked the door shut.  _

_ “See, I’ve been telling you for years that you are incredible! This is your proof. International teams want _ you _ ,” he beamed for his friend. He was so, so proud that something just took over and made an impulsive decision. “I’m actually glad you’re here, I wanted to call you but started talking myself out of it so I didn’t but now you’re here,” but his enthusiasm dipped and he trailed off, now regretting what he had said out loud. _

_ Finding his voice from the nervousness that had overtaken his best friend, Sander spoke, “Hey, Robbe you can talk to me.”  _

_ He led them to the couch and sat them down.  _

_ Robbe let out a breath and said, softly, “I just wanted to tell you that I think Iloveyou.” He spoke the words quickly, maybe doing so would make them inaudible to Sander. He couldn’t bring himself to look into Sander's eyes, too afraid to see his feelings unreciprocated.  _

_ Sander was stunned, he hadn’t expected this.  _

_ Robbe continued muttering, “I’m sorry to just spring that on you, I just had to let it out. I like really  _ really _ love you. We don’t have to talk about it, I was just so excited about your offer, because the national team also called me today and they basically said they would love to have us both. This is it Sander, this is what we’ve been wanting!” _

_ “Oh, yea that’s great!” he sounded enthusiastic but uttering those words pained him. _

_ “I’m sorry if I made things weird I just–,” he gripped Sander’s hand tightly and looked down at it. _

_ With their linked hands, Sander brought Robbe closer for a rib-crushing hug. He wrapped his arms around the smaller middle blocker’s body and breathed in the smell of his shampoo, closing his eyes tight. Robbe seemed to melt into their embrace reciprocating Sander’s motions and moving his hands over his back.  _

_ For Robbe, the hug served as proof that Sander leaving to Japan wasn’t even an option anymore, not after he had shared his feelings. For Sander, it had made his decision even harder. He knew he would be a fool to turn away such a prestigious offer but at what cost? _

_ He knew how much he loved being with the one in his arms but he couldn't exactly say what it was yet.  _

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

The walk to Senne’s flat in silence, and then once they’re inside they lose each other among their friends. Sander is overwhelmed by the amount of old friends who want to talk to him about his travels and Japan. Occasionally, he’ll spot a head of messy brown hair walking to some other part of the enormous apartment, at which point he would try to strain his neck above the crowd to only lose him again.

When it nears midnight, he decides now would be a good time to actually find Robbe, who seemed to be hiding from him around the apartment and now that he thought of it, he hadn’t seen him in a while. Maybe he had left? No he wouldn’t have left, would he? Now worried, Sander wanders around the apartment searching all the bedrooms, asking his friends if they had seen him. The closest he gets to a good answer is when Senne just tells him the stairs to the roof are in the kitchen. 

So that’s where he goes. To the roof.

Robbe was right, the roof is enormous, the whole width of Senne’s top floor apartment and overlooks the city and the water all the way around. The lights twinkle in the distant and if he concentrates, the sound of other parties and excited voices can be heard every which way. He looks around, taking in the air. It’s still fucking cold but he doesn’t care anymore.

He spots a figure on the opposite side, leaning against the wall looking out at the water and dark horizon. There are no lights in this direction, just empty darkness. He makes his way over, cautiously, not wanting to startle him. 

“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me,” he jokes.

“I wasn’t hiding from you, it just got too much down there.”

“Oh so you come here often then,” he laughs and goes to stand next to him to also look out into the distance.

They don’t look at each other as Robbe murmurs, “Actually yes, Senne gave me a key and I come up here to just look out at the port.” He points into the void. 

Sure enough, Sander’s eyes were adjusting to the lack of light this side of the building and he could make out the water gently flowing. In the silence, he could hear it too. It was calming, he definitely understood why Robbe came up here in refuge.

“I wish I could say that I came out here to look out at the port that leads to the ocean that faces Japan in order to look at you when you were there, but uh, it’s kind of the wrong ocean,” he chuckles.

Sander’s eyes widen.

_ Did he just– _

Robbe realises his teasing remark, “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean–”

Suddenly, they hear shouts and screams erupting from all around the city, including the floor underneath them. Robbe’s comment fades in the echoes of jubilation filling their ears. 

“It must be midnight then,” Sander utters.

“Mhm, Happy New Year, Sander.” 

“Happy New Year, Robbe.” They still don’t dare look at each other and sit comfortably in the silence for a while, listening to the cheers of people in the nearby buildings, sounding joyful and very much enjoying the first minutes of the new year. 

And then Sander decides if he doesn’t try now, when will he ever?

He turns to look at Robbe’s profile, barely able to make out his features.

“Can I kiss you?” Sander hesitantly raises a hand to softly stroke Robbe’s cheek. 

Robbe looks at him as he backs away, but he doesn’t say anything. His brain malfunctions. 

_ Why would Sander ask me that? Is he mocking me? Is all this just some sick joke to mess with my feelings to just make fun of me afterwards? _

_ But then what was that at the restaurant? The jealousy? Was it even jealousy? _

He finally gathers his thoughts together to string together a few words. “Can you what?”

“Kiss yo-“

Robbe breaks him off. He decides it’s just all a sick joke and that he can’t go through the last two years again. They were miserable and Robbe can not help but think that it was his fault Sander went away, because of Robbe’s feelings for him. And now that Sander was back in his life, Robbe didn’t want to lose him again, but if it means this, teasing and playing with his feelings, then Robbe doesn’t want that. “I don’t know if you’re just messing with me, but that’s not gonna happen, Sander.” He turns and walks away.

Now it’s Sander’s turn to be speechless. ‘Move’ he tells his legs but nothing happens. He stares at Robbe walking away from him, but he can’t let Robbe go. Not again. Not after the last couple of days where he felt like he was truly home.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first flashback - basically, robbe gets injured during and has to pull out of the game to get it bandaged. sander is worried that robbe is playing through the pain and robbe gets angry for belittling him about it.
> 
> *evil laughter* i am sooo sorry.. is it slowburn now?? please dont hate meeee...  
> instead, you can come scream at me on tumblr, i'd love that actually: to-enter-polaris


	4. soaring high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sander finally confronted Robbe about his feelings but is Robbe ready to reciprocate? Does he even want to reciprocate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, i am so insanely sorry for how long its been since the last chapter. i just couldnt figure out how to write this sobbe and i got hella stuck on one of the flashbacks so i got myself into other things and its taken so long to get back into this and im still so unsure about how it plays out tbh... ((highkey found my motivation again when i had fun making the text message convo later on in this chapter haha but shh spoilers lol)) but if youre still here, thank you.  
> so here we are. im warning you there is cheese in this chapter😳 its also like 9k so i hope you're prepared for that. see you on the other side ♡

Two years.

Two _whole_ years– well, almost two complete years Robbe had waited to see him again. Almost two years of Sander never leaving his mind. He couldn’t watch any Japan games, but what made it worse was every time he played, he thought of him. 

And he doesn’t count the week he actually spent _in_ Japan, because, frankly, he’d like to forget that week even happened. He had been super excited to see Sander, to surprise him for it only to end in him spending a miserable week in a foreign country because he couldn’t book a new flight home. He had tried to visit Tokyo, to make the most of his trip but he spent a lot of it wallowing in his sadness and heartbreak locked away in his small hotel room. This is not at all what he had imagined. If anything he would’ve just spent an amicable time wandering the streets with a friend, but not this. Never this. 

He went home and just tried so hard to forget. 

Honestly, he thought he’d get over Sander but no. And then he showed up at his door; Robbe’s heart flew again. But he was also angry. Angry that Sander had had the audacity to leave him, but he also knew it was Sander’s pro career, one of his major goals in life. So why the fuck was he back here now? But Robbe was too exhausted, and frankly too lost for words, to care or to even ask. So he let him stay, just for one night, and then went to bed. Except he couldn’t sleep and all the memories of their teen and university years with the person in the room just across the hall came flooding back to him, drowning him in so many emotions he couldn’t breathe. 

He shut his eyes, if he was asleep then it would just be a dream. This couldn’t be reality. It was just his imagination playing a cruel trick on him. 

_It’s all a dream. He’s not really back. Why would he be back? He said he never wanted to see me again._

Except it’s not a dream.

The next morning, he finds him in the kitchen. 

_So this is real._

Still lost for words, he never really said anything. Neither of them did.

 _Well, he could be back, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be around me._

So he left, but not before saying, “I quit.” He had to make it easier for both of them. So this was his solution. Sander didn’t want to play with him, and Robbe thought he wouldn’t be able to play with someone who didn’t love him anymore, at least not the way he did, so he took one for the team.

But then he saw him again. 

_Fuck. Why at this bar? Why at this bar? Why at this bar?_

He was overwhelmed with emotions and left. Again. 

But this time Sander ran after him.

_What? Why?_

Now, they have to talk. Or rather, they yelled at each other. Robbe had to let Sander know that he hurt him. Sander had crushed him when he left, right after telling him that he loved him. Right after he had poured his heart and soul into Sander’s hands, only to have him throw it away like it was nothing. 

So when Sander said he wanted Robbe to stay on the team and play _with_ him again, Robbe didn’t know what to do.

_So you're staying? What made you change your mind?_

_Maybe I can let you in afterall…_

Sander stayed and agreed to play with his team, _their_ new team. They played on opposite teams.

 _Finally, some familiarity_.

The competition was back and it was like they were never apart. He took the opportunity to show off what Sander has missed. His perfect reception of Sander’s spike serve, which he must admit had gotten very good; his powerful jump, leaving Sander speechless as he looked at him in midair; his jump floater, which, to his delight, Sander had a hard time picking up the first time. However, he was not the only one who got better. Of course Sander had too. It made Robbe even more excited, more competitive.

_This is fun._

Truthfully, it was one of the best practices he had had in a long time. The energy in the gym was insane. Everyone was buzzing with elation and enthusiasm. High spirits all around. Robbe couldn’t help but think that he had contributed to creating that dynamism. 

_I want to play with you. I want to play with you._

However, Sander doesn’t toss to him that day.

_Soon hopefully?_

After that scrimmage, everything changed. In the locker room, Sander started–

 _Flirting?!? Is he flirting with me?_

This made Robbe blush. 

_Fuck._

What really catches off guard is when Sander asked whether or not he was seeing anymore. So he told him the truth. 

_I just can’t stop thinking about you, dumbass. Why would I_ want _to be with anyone else?_

_But wait– wait._

_What are you trying to say? What does this mean?_

Could this mean what Robbe thought he meant?

They’re friends again. Best friends. And that makes Robbe happy. Happier than he’s felt in a long time. It’s crazy what a few simple words can do. Especially when they come from the right person. It’s also crazy how someone can make him feel so many different things, but the main ones being affection and joy. 

Pure joy is how the afternoon continued to be. With Overcooked, they were teasing each other but also most important working together. 

_We can do this. We can play together again. There’s nothing holding us back._

Well, there’s one thing holding them back.

The walls Robbe had put up. He trusts Sander, but does he trust him one hundred percent with his heart? He had tried in the past and look where that got him. He just wants to love someone unconditionally and have it be returned to him in the same way. Is that too much to ask?

At dinner he got defensive. They both did. He saw Sander’s jealousy when someone flirted with him. Deep down, he was smiling to himself, fucking relieved that after all this time, Sander felt the same way he did. But it was too much all at once. So he pushed him away and Sander didn’t budge.

 _So you’re really staying?_

His insecurities flooding him again. He wanted this so badly to be true. And then Sander found him at midnight on the roof and asked to kiss him.

_This is romantic, isn’t it? On a nice roof, at midnight on New Years. Fucking sap, you haven’t changed, Driesen._

Robbe needed to be sure. One more time. Please. He knew Sander was looking straight at him so he closed his eyes and took a step away from him. Sander’s hand dropped.

“I don’t know if you’re just messing with me, but that’s not gonna happen, Sander.” 

There it was. His wall was only there to protect him but at the same time it was also keeping everything else out, even if it was exactly what he wanted. He walked away, back towards the stairs to get off the roof. And like every other time since his return to Antwerp, Sander followed.

_It’s not a joke. It’s not a joke. He actually does care._

And he felt whole again.

Sander was watching Robbe as he moved slowly away from him. “Robbe, please. Fuck, Robbe, I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing these last few days. Running after you!” he sighs.

Robbe doesn’t reply.

It’s true, he had come after Robbe and he would continue to follow him until Robbe either told him he would stay or he told Sander to leave him alone for good. Any other answer was never going to be good enough for him. He had to know how Robbe felt after all these years. He needed to show Robbe that he loved him. So fucking much and it was killing him. 

“You told me to come back when I knew what I wanted.” Sander shouts after him. “I know what I want, Robbe.”

Robbe stops. 

Sander takes that as a good sign. He quickly walks over to catch up with him to stand in front of him. “I know what I want,” he repeats again, barely audible to either of them. “Seeing you fly makes me so fucking proud, Robbe. You have no idea. Seeing you play again, it just reminded me of us in high school. Letting nothing stop you, overcoming all your challenges.”

“Then why did you leave in the first place?” Robbe questions.

“Because you didn’t need me anymore. And I would’ve just held you back.”

“What do you mean hold you back? My love for you would hold you back?”

“Don't put words in my mouth. That’s not what I said.”

“It's what you meant!”

“No it's not! I thought we both wanted to go international to play with the best team, to continue to grow.” He fell silent. Softly, he adds, “And then I realised, I play the best when I’m with you.” There it was. Finally. His confession, his true feelings let free for the world to know, but more importantly for Robbe to know. 

Sander steps closer, slowly, as if testing the waters, to see if he could touch Robbe right now. “And to tell you the truth, I’ve been happier these last few days with you than the last two years.” 

He gently rests his forehead against Robbe’s, who finally lets him. They both breathe out, not having realised they were both holding their breath. 

Robbe stays silent for a while but then, in a small voice speaks, “Me too.” 

_So what now?_

“I never stopped wanting to play with you, Sander.” Robbe continues in a voice that is soft and gentle. Sander can feel his warm breath on his face. They both knew it meant more than that. They were past volleyball at this point.

 _I_ _never stopped wanting to be with you_. 

“So, can I kiss you now?” Sander asks again. He wants to be absolutely sure, not wanting to read the situation wrong and make it worse all over again. 

Robbe doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes Sander’s hands into his own and moves up to kiss him on the lips. It’s soft, nothing too crazy. When they pull away, Sander is beaming at Robbe. He put his hand on the back of Robbe’s neck and slotted their lips together, moving in sync. He moved his tongue across Robbe’s lower lip, asking, wanting to taste all of him, whatever Robbe wanted to give him

And Robbe wanted to give all of him to Sander. The person he had been in love with since high school. His soulmate in so many ways. Too long had he waited for this moment. 

Robbe wrapped his own arms around the setter’s shoulders, bringing him lower, deepening the kiss and pressing their bodies impossibly closer. 

They’re kissing for a while, holding each other tightly. Only when Robbe shivers do they decide to go home.

“Wow, am I not warm enough for you?” Sander teasing, rubbing his hands up and down on Robbe’s arms to warm him up.

Robbe gives him a small smile. “I didn’t realise how cold it was up here. You want to go home?” 

Sander gives him a nod and Robbe takes his hand, dragging him towards the stairs. 

Inside Senne’s apartment, everyone has left, leaving the living room and kitchen deserted. They carefully make their way through the apartment, not wanting to scare a probably sleeping Senne and Zoë who must have assumed they had left and weren’t still on the roof. Robbe is sure to lock the door behind them with his spare key and off they go, hand in hand, going home.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_“So I finally got my scholarship offers,” Robbe shyly said to Sander one afternoon while they sat in their usual café when they were in high school._

_Of course, Sander had already graduated but he still made the time to meet Robbe there when his own practice was over. Homework could wait._

_Sander looked up at him, smiling, “And?” He had been waiting for this moment. The moment Robbe would tell him he was joining him on his university team. Except that moment never came._

_He seemed disappointed and heartbroken. In the softest voice, Robbe sighed, “I’m going to Brussels.” He gripped the side of his coffee cup tighter, not daring to look at Sander. “I didn’t get an offer from Antwerpen. I’m so sorry Sander.”_

_Sander’s smile faded. They wouldn’t play together again, at least not yet. “Hey,” he poked at Robbe’s hand to make him look at him. “Why are you sorry? That’s not your fault.” Their reunion on the court could wait a few more years. After university, there were, of course, national teams around the world. Belgium was bound to take both of them after they finished school, right? Maybe take them before, in their second to last year or something?_

_“But it is, I wasn’t good enough for Antwerp’s team. They didn’t even want me. And I know how badly you wanted to play together again.” His eyes dropped again, ashamed and feeling useless. He’d been telling himself since he got the news of his rejection that he sucked at volleyball. Telling himself that he should just quit now and–_

_“You are more than good enough, hey, look at me.” Sander’s voice brought him back to the café. To the warm cup in his hand. To Sander’s gentle smile and shining green eyes. Robbe looked up. “You just didn’t have your favourite setter to really show off your talent,” he joked to help Robbe feel better._

_Robbe smiled back at him for a brief second, before it faded again and his doubts flooded him once more. “Yea, but I should have learned to jump higher, like you tried to teach me, and to improve on my serves and–” he spiralled, going deeper into a dark well of anxiety and regrets._

_But Sander was never going to let Robbe speak negatively about himself, just like what he said during his own depressive episodes. “Robbe, you’re so fucking talented. You can jump higher than most guys who are almost twice your size. That’s incredible! Honestly, it’s like you sprout wings when you’re in the air, and that confidence you have every time, as if nothing is stopping you. That’s amazing. And I admire you for that. And you’ve worked so hard to improve since when I first saw you play. You’ll continue to grow and learn. I just know it, it’s what you do best.” He reached out to reassuringly rub the back of Robbe’s hand, still clutched around the cup._

_He could go on and on about Robbe’s natural ability and passion for the sport. This boy truly had a gift._

_“And besides,” he goes on, “Brussels isn’t a bad team. I should know, we played them in my first and only match a few months ago.” It had been before he had to take the rest of the year off due to a pretty bad episode. He gave Robbe a look. “We’re rival schools now, so we’ll definitely be playing with each other again, just not on the same side, so you better bring it Ijzermans,” he smirked._

_Finally, Robbe smiled back at him. Sander always knew how to lift his spirits and competition between them was nothing new. Finally, something familiar._

_“Oh it’s on!” he symbolically put out his hand to shake on it which Sander happily took. “But seriously, thank you, Sander.”_

_“Anytime, that’s what I’m here for,” he said as he absentmindedly stroked the back of Robbe’s hand he was still holding and had forgotten to let go. Robbe didn’t seem to mind all that much._

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Sleeping is nice. Sleeping until past noon is very nice. But sleeping with someone who he loves is the best, Sander decides, especially when he’s holding them tight and he can feel the gentle rising and falling of their chest against his own. 

“Morning.” Sander is looking at Robbe when he opens his eyes, gently stroking his cheek. 

As Robbe’s eyes adjust to all the light flooding the room, even through the curtains pulled tightly closed, he says, “Hi. What time is it?”

“Past noon,” Sander says, pressing a light kiss on Robbe’s lips. 

Robbe groans and wraps his arms around Sander’s waist, bringing him closer from a hug. 

Sander laughs but still holds him tightly in his arms. “This is nice.”

Robbe just hums in agreement as he takes in everything about Sander– his smell, his arm muscles flexing around him, his soft hair, just everything about Sander that he loves.

“So what are we doing today?” Sander says into Robbe’s shoulder.

Robbe holds him tighter, “Staying right here all day.”

Sander chuckles as he returns the tight embrace. “Sounds like a plan. I’m holding onto you and I’m never letting you go.”

Robbe kisses him, seeming to agree with this statement. They melted together. Sander’s fingers trace over Robbe’s hip bone, slowly lifting his shirt, feeling each of the groves of his abs. 

“You’re not freaking out anymore,” Robbe teases against his lips.

In a daze, Sander says, “What?”

“Like in the locker room.”

Sander chuckles. “Well, I mean, have you seen yourself, Robin? You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Robbe’s cheeks go warm. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He grins back, meeting their lips together once again.

Sander’s phone buzzes and the pair of them groan, but ignore it. Except, the buzzing just keeps going. 

“You’re going to have to get that, you know,” Robbe says, moving to no longer kiss Sander’s lips but everywhere else around his face: cheek, forehead, temple, every kiss filled with love.

Sander hums as he turns in Robbe’s hold to grab his phone from the nightstand. He sees texts from Senne:

Sander rolls his eyes at his phone before turning back to Robbe. 

“Everything okay?” Robbe asks.

“Mhm. That was Senne. We are expected to meet him and Jens at the court in 45 minutes for some two versus two.”

Robbe just laughs, sitting up besides his boyfriend? _Were they boyfriends now?_ “How did I see this coming?”

Sander looks at him confused, “What do you mean?”

“It’s just this thing that Senne does every time. He always gets out of cleaning the apartment after a party by going out to play.”

Sander gets it. “Typical Senne,” he chuckles. “But Zoë doesn’t mind? Cleaning all by herself, I mean. ”

Robbe shakes his head, smiling, “I don’t think so, she’s not like you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sander gapes at him, pretending to be offended.

Robbe leans over to give him a peck on the lips. “I know you don’t like cleaning. You’d be so angry if I left you.”

“I’d be sad if you left me for any reason.” He shyly darts his eyes down to his lap, unable to make eye contact. Robbe looks at him softly, blushing slightly. Sander quickly changes the mood and goes back to his teasing self when he’s around Robbe, “And what if I’ve changed since university?” Robbe simply gives him a knowing look, making Sander cave, “Okay okay fine. I still don’t like cleaning. But that’s why I have you.” He cheekily grins at him, eyes glimmering with stars and affection for the person sitting opposite him. 

Robbe rolls his eyes. “Well, okay, if we have to go meet Senne and Jens, we better get ready.”

To show his agreement, Sander kisses him. He places a hand on the back of Robbe’s head to keep him pressed against his lip for a little longer. Robbe smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms around Sander’s middle. It’s a little awkward since they’re both sitting on the bed, but they don't care. They only care about their closeness, the warmth that radiates off their two bodies. 

They arrive at the court a little later than Senne had originally told them, but that was nothing new. 

“Oi, fashionably late as ever I see,” Jens calls out to them when they get within ear shot. He and Senne had obviously arrived on time and were doing bump passes while they waited. 

Sander and Robbe had always been known for being late since high school, and when the two of them arrived together, well, they were even more late. Neither of them had a sense of time outside off the court. During a match, timing is crucial, for blocks, for quicks. Pacing is everything. It drives the game and can mean the difference between winning and losing. A rushed play could mean a missed point. And tempo was especially crucial for a setter. For Sander, he was the one to set it in the first place, how quickly he needed to set for his spiker, how fast everyone around him moved in unison for synchronised plays or decoys. Timing is everything in volleyball.

But outside those court lines, he just didn’t really care. Things would happen when they happened. It was how they both lived carefree, and definitely not about how they had poor time management and often lost track of time with distractions surrounding them.

“Well we’re here now, aren’t we?” Sander shoots back to his new teammate. “So, two on two?” he asks Senne.

“I was thinking first years versus second years, just like old times.” He grins at the pair of them. This meant Jens and Robbe versus Senne and Sander. “Jens can be your setter, Robbe. And I haven’t played with Sander’s tosses in years either but I have played with a bunch of other setters so I’ll adapt,” he adds pridefully.

Robbe nods and moves to the side of the net where Jens is already standing, Sander remaining where he was next to Senne. He was a little disappointed to not be tossing to Robbe yet, but that time would come. Soon, he really hoped. 

“Robbe, nice serve!” Jens shouts back to Robbe standing at the back of the court as he throws him the ball. 

Robbe twirls the ball in his hands, his usual pre-serve routine, breathes out, and tosses it into the air. He looks up at it. _Good toss, it’s got good height._ He takes his few quick steps and hits the ball to Sander’s side of the court. Senne receives it, sending it perfectly over to Sander for him to set it up for a spike, but Robbe sees right through it and blocks the spike.

Jens sticks out his hand for praise, “Nice block,” and they all position themselves for the next rally.

Robbe serves again. This time, Senne gets past Robbe’s block, forcing Jens to dig the ball over to Robbe for a toss. Jens, being the libero he is, gets it perfectly to Robbe with minimal spin, it’s just fucking perfect. Robbe sends his toss and Jens spikes it. Another point for Jens and Robbe.

“Damn, even our libero can spike?” Sander is only slightly surprised. He knows Jens is all around a good player, fulfilling many rolls, digging and setting mainly. But a libero that can spike even without usual training is something kind of unusual since it’s illegal in official matches. Liberos cannot attack; they can only play defensively. 

Jens just smirks at him and accepts Robbe’s celebratory high five, “Nice toss.”

“Thanks,” and he goes to serve again.

They play back and forth. Sander and Senne find their rhythm and start to get points in too. Two vs. two volleyball is a lot more demanding than a full six player team. Players are required to be more agile and need to be more versatile in the potions between receiving, setting, and attacking. It often switches between the pairs and all four are able to do that. Playing two on two is perfect conditioning for thinking on the spot and being able to adapt to the play happening.

Sander loves it, the spontaneity of it all, it keeps everyone alert and it really is quite fun. They all play at 110% throwing themselves to save the ball, seal dives all around, and of course Jens is the best at those. All four of them laugh at ridiculous plays and cheer at incredible saves. Everyone is smiling and enjoying their time. 

They take a break after Jens and Robbe win. 

Taking a sip from his water, Senne says, “geez playing with three national players is intense! You guys go all out!”

“Practice like you play!” Say Robbe and Sander in unison. They both turn to each other, surprised. Sander gives Robbe a wink, making him blush but smile nonetheless. 

Neither of them don’t notice Senne eyeing them, raising an eyebrow and smiling. He turns to look at Jens who is also smiling. The two of them make eye contact and laugh silently. 

Jens mouths, “About fucking time,” and Senne just laughs. 

“What’s so funny?” Sander says, realising they are being watched. 

Senne simply shakes his head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. Another round?” He changes the subject. 

“Yes please! I have so much energy to go for another round!”

“Yea! But let’s change partners! I call Robbe!” Sander exclaims. 

Robbe looks taken aback.

 _Please. I just want to play with you again… It’s been so long_.

He looks at Robbe reassuringly. “Please? I want to toss to you, like in high school.”

It was a big step for him, for both of them. It had been so long that at this point it all meant something. Playing together meant something. It would re-solidify everything they had been through, their growth not only as players but their relationship together. Teammates, friends, two individuals on either side of the world broken by their love, enemies who refused to talk to each other, and now, lovers. In a way, this journey made them soulmates, bonded together to always be there for each other. 

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

_By the end of Sander’s last year of high school, Robbe and Sander’s signature quick had been nicknamed the yin and yang quick, which was probably a reference to the duo’s drastically different hair colours, Sander’s bleach blond and Robbe’s unruly brown curls. Strength in unity and all that bullshit, but it was true. They had learned how to connect and how to be well-balanced with one another. Together, they surprised everyone the first time they played against them. That quick would happen before anyone realised what was going on. Sure it could be blocked, their own teammates had figured that out in friendly six versus six matches amongst their team members, but it was damn difficult and frustrating. And even then, it took a great deal to get used to it._

_And on top of that, they were constantly evolving, picking new things here and there and making it the ultimate attack. One of the team’s greatest weapons. Combined with the other team member’s own personal proficiencies: Aaron’s jump float, Moyo’s incredibly well thought out blocking, Senne’s foundational digs and receives, and a handful of synchronised combinations between various positions, they became a very strong team by the end of it._

_But the unique speed and precision of that quick was not everything that was important with it. What was perhaps more incredible and meaningful to both Robbe and Sander was the amount of work they both put into it to forge it into the spectacular weapon it was._

_Robbe had already been very skilled with his mid air battles. High above the net, with his jump, was Robbe’s place of serenity. He could see all his options of where to spike the ball all in the second he was in the air. It’s like time stopped for the briefest amount period._

_And then there was Sander precision setting skills. He could pinpoint a toss to almost anywhere on the court and manipulate the desired speed, making it perfect for their signature quick._

_They soon learned that pairing the two of them together had incredible results and with practice, they improved their skills to work better together. Sander’s toss started to have less of a spin after it reached the ball’s desired destination and Robbe learned more aerial techniques to jump higher and faster. Speed became everything._

_Practice would end but Sander and Robbe would keep going until Senne came back from the locker rooms, showered and changed, ready to go home for the night and yell at them to do the same. It was routine by that point._

_Looking exhausted, Senne caught the last ball and announced to the rest of the gym, “alright! That’s it everyone, good work today! I’m really impressed with everyone’s digs and serves. Let’s go home.”_

_“Everyone needs to get plenty of rest before our match at the end of the week!” Senne’s co captain, Max, said. He was a tall guy with short brown hair. Senne looked at him, thankful to have support of their sometimes unruly underclassmen. Their positions were really like parents taking care of their ten children with the highest amount of energy imaginable._

_Everyone nodded in agreement and went around giving each other high fives as they gathered up the stray balls around the court. Robbe and Sander made their way near the volleyball container and wheeled it closer to the net._

_Looking back at just the two of them now remaining, Senne shouted, “Not for long, you two.”_

_“Yes captain!” Sander called back. “Just want to see how well I can pinpoint the new toss with Robbe’s broad attack, which was a spike with Robbe moving from one side of the other parallel to the net. It was the attack that had the most movement which made predicting where he would end up, hardest to toss to._

_Senne nodded and closed the door behind him to keep the cool air out of the gym. Robbe picked up a ball from the basket and tossed it high into the air for Sander. Sander looked up at it as Robbe ran around him to the opposite end. He jumped, momentum carrying him still further left, away from the court. Sander set the ball. It came up a bit short forcing Robbe to hit with his left hand._

_“Fuck, sorry, I’m still trying to get the hang of this,” Sander apologised._

_Reassuring him, Robbe said, “Hey don’t worry, it’s just a practice, and I was still able to hit it. If anything, the other team wouldn’t expect something like that.” He grinned at him._

_Robbe always knew exactly what to say to cheer up his friend. Sander immediately looked less nervous, and nodded towards him._

_“When did you get so good at using your left hand?”_

_Robbe just smirked. “Gotta be aware of all my options,” he simply replied. “Another?”_

_Sander nodded and Robbe threw him another ball from the basket. This time Robbe hits it with a powerful spike but Sander still isn’t convinced about its precision._

_“Sorry, that’s still off.”_

_Robbe hummed in agreement. He knew it was no point lying, Sander knew exactly where the ball went, his spatial awareness incredibly precise when it came to volleyball._

_“One more!” Robbe was already, excitedly twirling a ball in his hands._

_Sander got into his starting position and breathed out, signalling to Robbe that he was ready to try again. The ball went through the air, Sander tossed and went perfectly to Robbe this time who spiked with a huge smile on his face._

_Robbe landed, still grinning broadly and turned to face his frame. “That’s so cool! It, like, stops! Almost like it floats.”_

_Sander nodded. “Mhm. That’s the whole point of this new toss. To kill the spin at its highest point so you have a little bit more time to decide where to send it.” Sander gave him a small smile._

_“It’s fucking great. I’m really impressed, Sander. You want to keep going? To really drill it in as always?”_

_“Yes!”_

_They tossed more balls back and forth. Some were still missing, but their success rate gradually improved._

_When nearly all the volleyballs are scattered around the gym, and no longer in the basket, Senne poked his head through the gym. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT STAYING!?” he screamed at them._

_Not noticing his return, both of them jumped in surprise._

_“Sorry Senne!” Sander said. “We got a little carried away with the new quick.”_

_“That’s great to hear and all, but you both need food after such a long practice. AND REST!” Senne seemed on edge at his underclassman still playing and not recuperating from all their repetitions and jumps._ ‘How are these idiots not tired after 4 hours of practice? I’m exhausted!’ _he thought to himself. “Seriously,” he waved his hands. “Go home!”_

_“Yes captain!” both Robbe and Sander replied in unison. Robbe went to gather all the volleyballs as Sander started to lower the net._

_Senne sighed and left. Robbe and Sander exchanged glances and smiled to themselves._

_It was a good practice. They were definitely ready for their next match._

_They did end up winning that game meaning they had qualified for nationals. Nationals!But then they lost in the semi finals, but that was okay because Sander still had one more year and they could try to get there together and win. It was a common goal they shared ever since they first met. They may not have liked each other much at first, but volleyball helped to be the foundation of their now blossoming friendship._

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

“I want to _earn_ your trust again Robbe. On the court.” He means it sincerely. To have Robbe trust him not only in volleyball, but to show him that their kiss last night meant a lot to him. “Just like when we first played. Let me toss to you again, Robin.”

“Well not like when we first played, you said you’d never toss to me,” Robbe raises an eyebrow.

Sander knows he’s joking, but it still hurts a little. It’s true, he didn’t like Robbe at first because of his confidence in his ability, but Sander quickly learned that he had every right to be proud. He really was a good athlete and volleyball player. “Oh, yea, you’re right,” he mutters. “Sorry about that, you were just–”

“So good, I intimidated you? Scared I would take your spotlight?” Robbe finishes for him.

Sander’s smile returns, “Oh, you fucking wish, Ijzermans!”

Senne claps his hands together, reminding them that he and Jens are still there, listening to their banter. Jens is pinching the bridge of his nose. _Some things don’t change no matter how much time passes._

“Ok so Robbe and Sander are a team,” Senne says as he picks up the volleyball and moves to the other side of the net, Jens closely following behind. He’s tired of their bickering, but he can’t help but smile to himself that his friends are no longer giving each other the cold shoulder. 

“Nice serve!” Jens tells him and Senne bounces the ball on the floor a couple times. 

Senne throws the ball high into the air in front of him and spike serves it to the other side. Robbe receives it and sends it over to where Sander is standing near the net. Sander looks up at it. Time starts to move slower. He watches the ball as it spins in the air, slowly coming down. He moves to position himself underneath it, never taking his eyes off it. Out of the corner of his eye, Sander watches Robbe running towards the net behind him. He focuses completely on the ball again, it’s getting closer. 

_Here it comes._

_After many years, this is it._

Sander tosses it backwards to Robbe and it was like time hadn’t passed. Like those arguments and all those silent years hadn’t happened at all. Robbe spikes it with ease right past Jens who misses. It’s their point.

Sander turns to double high five Robbe.

_That was good._

_You’re still so good. I only hope that I can keep up with you._

“Sorry, that was a bit off. I haven’t tossed like that in a while seeing as you’re the only one it really works well with.”

“Oh shut up. That was perfect,” Robbe says rolling his eyes at his partner. 

Senne shakes his head, laughing. “Wow, literally nothing has changed since high school.”

But they don’t hear Senne’s comment. Robbe had walked over to Sander and given him a small peck. 

_It was perfect._

_You’re perfect._

“Ok maybe a _few_ things have changed since high school,” he says as he gestures to Robbe and Sander who now have an arm wrapped around each other in a sort of side hug with Robbe resting his head against Sander's shoulder. 

“But, about fucking time,” Jens adds to which Senne agrees.

Finally, they turn to look at their friends, who are smirking at the revelation they have just witnessed. 

“Hmm? What are you talking about?” Sander asks dumbly, looking back at Robbe as if nothing mattered more than the one in his arms.

“The teasing and bickering is nothing new, but the kissing is definitely new.” Jens feins disgust.

Robbe rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbles as Sander squeezes him closer and kisses his temple sweetly. “Let’s just continue playing.”

They all nod at the statement and take their positions. It’s Robbe’s serve.

Just before he’s about to toss the ball, Jens calls from the other side of the net, “But, seriously, I’m happy for you. Both of you.” He makes sure to look at both of them. 

Sander quickly turns around to give Robbe an air kiss which makes Robbe blush a little. 

“Ok, no more niceties. Bring it, Robbe!” Jens moves into a receiving position. Knees bent, hands out in front of him, ready to move to wherever the ball goes.

Robbe stares Jens down. He has no intention of going easy on them, not now he and Sander are playing so well. Robbe smirks and does his serve. 

Playing against Robbe and Sander together, Jens and Senne soon learn, is quite a work out. Those two really do go hard and play all out. What’s worse is as more rallies go by, the two seem to work together even better. They’re like two gears that turn flawlessly with each other, supporting each other and absolutely making live hell for their opponents. On several occasions, Robbe is actually the one to toss to Sander and Robbe has to admit, Sander can spike almost as well as he can set. It’s infuriating how good he is.

“Can I just say, I really fucking relieved that I’m playing _with_ you two and not _against_ you because two are monsters,” Jens says to the pair of them. His hands are on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Robbe and Sander have had them running around the entire court and they are now exhausted.

Senne nods his head, also panting. “Yea and must you go so hard? It’s just a practice, not a real match. Amongst _friends_ ,” he says as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Practice like you play, Senne. Practice like you play.” Sander turns to look and Robbe who agrees with this statement and gives him a high five. 

“You will be the end of me, Driesen.” Senne rolls his eyes at the two of them who are grinning broadly at each other, proud to have destroyed their friends on the court. 

“Well that was fun! We should do this again now that you’re back, Sander,” Jens says as he gives Sander a pat on the back.

“Oh definitely, so we can crush you some more,” he jokes back.

“I should probably get back to Zoë,” Senne says, picking up his water and jacket which he threw aside when Sander and Robbe started to really make them run.

“Us too. We’ll see you at practice, Jens?” Robbe says as he high fives Jens. He turns to Senne, “And we’ll grab dinner sometime with Zoë, okay?”

Senne nods his approval and they bid each other farewell and walk off their separate ways. 

“That was really fun! It’s nice to play together again,” Robbe says shyly. “I can’t wait for official matches, you know.”

Sander just nods. “We should probably talk,” Sander hesitates. 

They have decided to walk back to Robbe’s place. It’s not very far and it’s a nice day out. The sun is out to keep them warm against the cooler winds, gently blowing through the few clouds covering the blue sky. They both have their hands in their coat pockets and chins tucked slightly in their light scarfs. 

He goes on, “So what is this?”

“Us dating?” Robbe suggests. “If that’s what you want?” 

Sander looks at him, still walking slowly down the sidewalk. Cars rush by them. “Yea, it’s what I want.” He takes his hand out of his pocket and when he reaches for Robbe’s, he does the same. They tangle their fingers together, no longer needing the warmth of their coats but instead relying on each other’s body heat. Robbe looks down at their intertwined hands, smiling to himself. Sander notices and leans over to kiss the side of his head. 

“So you really came back for me?” Robbe asks, a bit teasingly, as he opens the front door. 

They had a pleasant walk, taking their time on their free day to simply enjoy each other’s company. Robbe throws his keys on the little table near the door and heads into the kitchen to get some more water. He comes back into the hallway, toeing off his shoes.

“Wow, you’re really egotistical, aren’t you?” he jokes in response. He wraps his arms around Robbe’s waist, bringing him closer to breath in his shampoo. He’s a little sweaty from their game and walk home but Sander doesn’t care; it’s Robbe. 

Robbe laughs, burying his nose deeper in the crook of Sander’s neck. “Look at you using big words” he retorts, grinning at himself.

Sander scoffs. “Meanie, but yes, idiot. Among other things, I came back for you. The national team basically begging me to come was a good incentive though. I’m glad I’m home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too,” Robbe says sweetly.

Sander moves down to give him a kiss. Robbe deepens it by wrapping his free arm around to the back of Sander’s head, bringing him closer and gently pulling at his hair. They stand like that for a while, swaying back and forth, taking each other in.

“So what do we do now?” Sander asks, fingers playing with Robbe’s hair.

Robbe responds, “I’m tired.” 

Chuckling, Sander says, “Couch it is, then.” He waddles them over to the L-shaped couch and lets himself fall backwards on it, dragging Robbe down on top of him. 

Robbe lets out a yelp but quickly recovers by placing his arms on Sander’s face to kiss him. They’re both smiling into the kiss.

Sander pulls back after a while, still running his fingers through Robbe’s curls. “So, have I convinced you to not leave the national team then?”

“Oh, well, you see..” he hesitates. “I was _going_ to tell them I was quitting but then you showed up at my door. So I only told you I had… I actually hadn’t done it yet.” He looks down at Sander nervously. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“I know.” He doesn’t make to move away. He stays, reassuring Robbe with a soft brush of his finger on his cheek. Robbe subconsciously tilts his head into Sander’s touch, relishing in the warmth. 

“You kn– You did?” 

Sander nods, “That morning after breakfast, I looked at the national team’s press release. If you had quit, they would have definitely announced it if the Robbe Ijzermans was retiring, but there was nothing.”

“Oh, right, yea” he retracts into himself, feeling small and embarrassed.

“And here I originally thought all my grand gestures were going to make you stay. Not just for me but because you love volleyball, Robbe.” He changes the mood, making Robbe shyly grin at him. “I’ve never seen anyone love it more than you.” He looks into Robbe’s eyes. He really means it. Robbe’s passion for volleyball was incomparable to anyone else he had ever meant. 

“And if it makes you feel any better, I lied to you too,” Sander continues. “About the hotel. True, I hadn’t booked a hotel but I also still have my apartment here... but I also wasn’t ready to go back to it” Robbe just gapes at him. “Perks of having a pro salary, I guess” he says trying to lighten the mood.

“I really can’t believe you” Robbe finally says with a smile. “So all this time–” He’s lost for words.

“I just wanted to be with you. In any way possible. I just wanted to fix us.” Sander can’t look at Robbe anymore.

It’s Robbe’s turn to console him. He runs his thumb over his cheekbones.

_I’m here. Nothing is going to change that._

“Deep down I wanted that too. I was just angry,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “–with you for leaving me,” he breaths out softly. 

Sander mutters in response, “I know. I know, I’m sorry for leaving.”

“You came back, that’s what matters the most.” Robbe gives him a small kiss on the tip of his nose. His arms are getting tired of supporting himself over Sander, so he sits up, dragging Sander up with him and positions himself more comfortably on his lap. “You know, I had a couple offers, after the first few months.” He looks down into Sander’s eyes, twirling his fingers through his hair. “But I stayed here because I hoped you would come back. So we could finally play _together,_ on the world stage.”

“Only took a couple years,” Sander mutters.

“But you also loved Japan didn’t you? You needed that experience. I would never hold you back from your dreams, Sander.”

Sander brings his arms around Robbe’s waist. “Yea, I loved Japan. We’ll go back together one time.”

“I’d like that. Make it more memorable than the first and only time I’ve been there,” Robbe chuckles awkwardly.

Sander winces. He’s reminded of the time Robbe came to see him at the very beginning of his time there. “Oh yea. I’m sorry about that too.”

“It’s my fault really. I didn’t warn you.” His eyes don’t dim. They continue to look at Sander with all the fondness in the world. His bad trip to Tokyo no longer weighing down on him. “We do that a lot… randomly showing up to each other’s houses,” Robbe laughs.

“It’s our thing,” Sander replies, now also chuckling. “But maybe we should really start letting each other know,” he smiles.

Robbe gasps, “Who said I’m ever going to let you go now that you’re mine?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Unbelievable,” Sander says before pecking Robbe’s lips and burying his face in the side of his neck, as he holds him tightly in his arms. Robbe does the same thing.

_They’re together and they’re never letting each other go._

It may have taken them a couple years to figure out what they really wanted, but they eventually found it. In each other, in volleyball. Everything finally made sense and they are the people they are meant to be. They have both grown in both volleyball but also in themselves, to be unapologetically themselves and to find the experiences that will only help them grow. Japan was exactly that for Sander. Going away to a foreign place to live freely and have control of his life. Robbe, less carefree, stayed, but still extremely passionate with what is important to him, to really discover what means the most.

  
  


-ˋˏ *.·:·. THREE MONTHS LATER .·:·.* ˎˊ-

_“And they are back on the court together! Number 8, Robbe Ijzermans and Number 14 Sander Driesen, the duo that impressed the nation when they were in high school. Looks like Sander is playing in the opening rotation despite it being his first match since his return to the national team after spending the last two years in Japan,”_ the game announcer says. 

Sander was up to serve first, typical starting rotation with the setter serving first. He stands behind the line, staring at the back of his teammates and straight at the opposing team. Robbe had even put his hands behind his head to protect it in case Sander missed just to mess with him even though he knows he won’t. He trusts Sander so fucking much, so it was just joke really. Sander knows Robbe was smiling even if he can’t see it. 

He had his target, the back right corner of the court that was open. _Perfect._

He tosses the ball into the air, watching it spin in slow motion as he strides forward and jumps to hit it.

_I am home._

_“And what an amazing start from Driesen, looks like they knew what they were doin– And it’s a service ace! Straight off the bat!”_

Sander hears the crowd going wild. He beams. His team cheers, giving him high fives all around. 

_It feels so good to be here._

“One more!” Robbe shouts at Sander from the front line. They grin at each, Robbe’s eyes dancing with joy. 

When the ball comes back to their side of the net, Sander knows what play to go for.

He looks at the ball, coming down at him in the air.

_God damn, Jens put that in a perfect spot._

“Nice receive,” he tells the libero, who grins at him almost as if to say, ‘Show them who you are.’ 

He can feel everyone’s anticipation around him. It’s his first game with a few of them, but many of his teammates he knows from highschool or university. They are fully aware of what him and Robbe are capable of. It’s not something that is easily forgotten when they lived and breathed their quick for actual years. To some of them, it was actually quite annoying when they had practice games. Blocking it was just plain brutal; however, good thing they weren’t on the other team today. 

_First things first–_

He tosses the ball into Robbe’s waiting hand in midair. It’s perfect

_We._

_Are._

_Back._

And Robbe smashes it, almost at a vertical on the other side of the court.

The other team barely even realised what was happening when the ball dropped on their side. 

_‘Look at that! The duo from high school Robbe Ijzermans and Sander Driesen! Still playing like that after all these years! It’s really quite incredible. How in sync those players have to be to pull that off.’_

The crowd went wild. Their team went wild. It was only a single point quite early on in the set but it didn’t matter. After everything Sander and Robbe had been through, it meant so much more than that. They were here. Together. At long last, they were on the same court, on the same team, in an official match for the whole world to see. This was the reintroduction of the yin and yang duo and their ultimate quick. 

Robbe brings up his hands for a double high five which Sander happily accepts. He can’t stop grinning. Feeling very energised for the rest of the game, everyone gets back into their position. 

“Nice serve,” Robbe tells him as Sander walks back to the serving line. 

_‘And another powerful from Driesen. And looks like the other team has finally gotten used to it. Their libero gets it in the air…’_

The other team scores, but it’s fine because he’s right where he’s supposed to be. 

He feels that he’s at 100% today. The ball feels perfect in his hands. Every set, every dig, perfect control. And on top of that, he is surrounded by his team for support. He is with Robbe who always seems to be at his absolute best today. It’s the best first game he could have ever asked for. 

-ˋˏ *.·:·. THE END .·:·.* ˎˊ-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! we've reached the end 🥺 honestly i cannot thank anyone enough who followed along and read my little story about these too dorks so stupidly in love they don't want to admit it.  
> thank you so much for reading. and to everyone who has left a comment, thank you it means the world im just really really bad at replying but thank you for taking the time it means a lot. sending you all so much love.  
> come find me on tumblr: to-enter-polaris


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